You'll probably think I'm being facetious when I refer to garage-cleaning Saturday as "the big day." But I truly am excited. For over a year -- maybe over two years -- I've been trying to get my sons and one son's girlfriend to help go through the stacks of stuff out there. Finally, in late February or early March, I said, "Look, I need to get this done. Not only should I not have to go through all that stuff that isn't mine, but I don't want to throw away something you might want." They both said, "I know. I know." So my son's girlfriend said, "Let's set a date right now!" That date was tomorrow, and was mutually agreed upon. As far as I knew, we all had it on the calendar.
Fast-forward to last Sunday, just before we sat down to Easter dinner. I said, "So we're on for garage-cleaning next Saturday, right?" Everyone looked at me blankly. My youngest son, who hadn't been in on setting the date, piped up that maybe I had unilaterally decided that before the others were on board. My other son and his girlfriend acknowledged that I was right, that we had agreed on April 2 as the date. They had made other plans, but they canceled them to honor their promise.
Within twenty-four hours, my garage will be de-junked (at least more than it is now); my curb will be littered with useless things awaiting trash collection, and my car will be filled with items to donate. Seriously, this is going to be a big day!
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