First it was just a steel 4-drawer filing cabinet leftover from my wife's business. Then we added an old dresser we had stuffed in the basement from one of the kids' rooms. Some ripped lawn furniture that I thought I could fix joined the party, along with a knocked down entertainment center from my first apartment (its vintage was such that the opening for the TV was square). The pile under the deck continued to grow: an old highchair, a bed frame, a bunch of chipped Formica shelves.
The original plan was to call a local handyman and have it hauled to the town dump. But as the load grew it became obvious it would take multiple runs. And a call to the town revealed that they don't take that stuff anyways, so I'd have to find a commercial hauler. College Hunks with a Truck and JunkLuggers were happy to come, but as the pile grew the price went up. And so we did what my wife had suggested in the first place (Yes, yes, you were right, honey) and we got a dumpster.
For us, this was summer of the big cleanout. Having lived in our home for over 3 decades and raised two children here, we've accumulated a lot of stuff. Not sure where our lives would take us and having extra space, we hesitated to throw things out, opting to put it in the attic or a corner of the basement. And indeed, when our boys got their first apartments, they were more than happy to take a chair or table, a set of dishes or some towels. But much water has gone under that bridge, and what they didn't take was now just accumulating dust.
We gave away what we could to various charities, hoping it might find a home with someone who was in need. But much wasn't really in that category: who really wants an old kitchen cabinet with some plywood on top we used for storing planters? Or a chipped dresser? Or set of stained shelves that sagged? Hence the pile under the deck. Only a garbage can of industrial size and strength would suffice to throw it all away.
A few calls landed a company that could get us one which we could have for 2 weeks. I ran out as the truck carrying it backed down our driveway, imploring the driver to slip the mammoth 15-yard steel coffin as far over as he could so we could still use the garage. Once settled in he showed me how the latch on it worked, and cautioned me not to fill it over the top. "You doing some remodeling?" he asked, a reasonable enough question considering the gargantuan size. "No," I replied sheepishly, "we've lived here for 30 years and we need to clean out a bit." He didn't bat an eye: "You buy stuff and then you throw it away. That's life."
It took me a day to relocate the heap under the deck to its new home. But then the gloves were off. Having a receptacle so large meant we didn't have to be precious about what would fit. Out went an old footboard. An old car top luggage carrier was next, along with some rusted lawn tools. Would the kids ever really use the small desks still in their rooms? And the old fireplace set in the attic was never going to see another blaze. Going, going, gone.
After the big stuff came the small. Old jumper cables and broken Christmas lights, not to mention the shelves they sat on. I had good intentions for a box of old lamp parts, the same for a collection of carpet remnants. And odds of repainting the rusting chairs that used to be on the deck were slim. All of it made the cut. Literally.
Two weeks later the truck returned, and the dumpster disappeared as easily as it came. The truly frightening thing is that if you walk through our house you would not know we got rid of anything. But if you open the storerooms, the basement or the attic you'll see, well, the storerooms, the basement or the attic. You couldn't see them before. We made great progress, but we know we're not done. As the guy said, "You buy stuff and then you throw it away. That's life." Truer words were never spoken.
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Marc Wollin of Bedford still has to tackle his office shelves. His column appears weekly via email and online on Substack and Blogspot as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.
