Twinges

Almost a year ago, I asked my two daughters and their husbands to help with cleaning out the garage as I had to get it emptier so that a new garage door could be installed. Over the years it had become a dumping ground for anyuthing either one of them didn't want to take home as well as things discarded but not thrown away by Joe and me.

So Lisa packed up or threw away all of her many college boxes; Laura took home her children's bikes and a few boxes; then they threw away stuff. I was not well enough to help at the time because of my knees. I think I was recovering from my first surgery. So there was no supervision whatsoever by me. That seemed like a good thing at the time as even the three steps to the garage were painful.

My first twinge came when I realized the old child's rocking chair had gone; my mom had bought it for Laura and it had been Lisa's. I got over it as it certainly wasn't of heirloom quality, and someone would fix it up and use it as it disappeared almost immediately from the pile of junk next to the driveway.

I really haven't missed much else until today. An entire box of flooring that matches the flooring in my house is gone. Not gone are the leftover shingles from the roofing that was done 15 years ago, the small pieces of wood that came from the deck in the back of the house over 20 years ago, at least 15 dried out cans of paint, a rusted bed frame, the bag of sequined stiletto heels and tap dance shoes. Sigh, go figure.

It's not that big of deal and I will find something to match the flooring. But I've learned my lesson. This is why I don't give up control easily. I still appreciate the help of my family but the rest of the cleaning out will be done by me. Which is ok as I now have two good knees and can do it myself. Ta Dah!