Living in our house, we now have 6 adults and a 3 year old whirlwind. (Seriously, I have never met a kid with as much energy as my grandson) As a result, when it’s time to relax, I usually find myself looking for a nice quiet place to hide.
The problem is that with Deb sick in bed, the kids in the family room and Christina and Erin in the living room, it’s usually the garage to which I flee. Lately though, there’s been this weird funk emanating from there that I haven’t been able to track down and eliminate. I was convinced that I had either a) an unwashed ice chest with year old potato salad or b) a dead mouse inside of one of the camping blankets we keep out there.
Saturday, since the house is full of sick people, I decided to spend as much time outside as possible. One of the projects on my to-do list was to try to get the garage clean. Or, at least as clean as it can be seeing as we have all of my stuff, some of Chris and Michelle’s stuff and a lot of Christina’s stuff in there.
Chris, in an effort to stay out of the quarantine zone, offered to help. We worked from the front to the back of the garage, cleaning, organizing, sorting stuff for storage, goodwill or trash and generally getting stuff put up and away.
After a couple of hours, we had pretty much everything finished. Everything was put where it belonged, the camping blankets had been washed and folded, all the trash had been bagged up and tossed and all of the remaining stuff had been gone through...and yet the funk remaineth...
So, the upside is the garage is clean, the bikes are all accessible, the workbench is clean and useable and we even have room to play darts...the downside is, we couldn’t find the source of the funk, the garage still smells and now it looks like I’m going to have to move the workbench and the cabinets away from the walls and hope I can find whatever it is that died in there and is now making my clean garage, un-inhabitable...
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