We have a large 2-car garage that has been filled to the brim with all kinds of crap almost from the moment we moved in here about 8 years ago. None of our vehicles have ever been in that structure, only the piles and piles of crap we threw in there and forgot about. Instead, they’ve all been parked out front and exposed to the elements.

From the front, our house looks like hillbillies live here: 2 cars, a truck, and three motorcycles are scattered about the driveway and parking area. Well-off hillbillies, perhaps, considering that the cars are Volvo and Lexus and the truck is a Land Cruiser, but it’s still very hillbilly-ish. And when I decide to break out the tools and work on any of them, well then it really is hillbilly time no matter what the socioeconomic strata: picture a fat bald guy in camoflage cargo shorts with serious plumber’s crack working on a bike or a car in the driveway and hollering “shit!” and “fuck!” and “goddammit!” at random intervals. The only real difference then between me and Jethro in Kentucky is that I still have all my teeth.

Well, all that is changing as of today. Today, Beth and I finished cleaning out the garage and now there are three motorcycles lovingly parked in there where they can’t be rained on or spattered by the lawn sprinklers anymore. We moved all the crap out of the garage and swept out all the leaves and dirt and crap that had accumulated over the years, and then we moved back in only what we wanted to keep. The rest of it — an old entertainment center, a water-damaged dining room table and chairs, Zoe’s old bed — all went out on the curb with a “Free To A Good Home” sign rather than saving it to clutter up the place until we finally organized the garage sale we’ve been talking for years about holding but probably never will.

And the trash fairies showed up with their pickups and hatchback cars and made it all disappear by nightfall. I love the trash fairies.