Storage
Garage Tells All
February/01/2010 11:35 AM
Garage Tells All
By Nicole Hanratty
The vast majority of us all start out in the same place post college--renting an apartment and dreaming of the day we will sign our life away to a mortgage and have shelter we can call our own that includes our very own garage. In these youthful and optimistic days, we see a white sparkling clean well-organized space that perfectly fits our car, bicycle, washer and dryer, along with a cabinet that can be used to store a few mementos.
Within days of having the coveted keys to the new front door, we surrender and designate the garage for all of the boxes of things we have accumulated over the years and have no idea what to do with, yet we begged our parents to save. The tennis racket circa 1980s, soccer trophies, the art work from first grade, the notes we passed back and forth to our best friends in junior high school--back when they still called it junior high--fill boxes that we forgot even existed until the day Mom and Dad showed up with them in lieu of a house warming present. They muttered something sweet like, "Here's all your crap," then pulled away faster than Mario Andretti. Read More...
By Nicole Hanratty
The vast majority of us all start out in the same place post college--renting an apartment and dreaming of the day we will sign our life away to a mortgage and have shelter we can call our own that includes our very own garage. In these youthful and optimistic days, we see a white sparkling clean well-organized space that perfectly fits our car, bicycle, washer and dryer, along with a cabinet that can be used to store a few mementos.
Within days of having the coveted keys to the new front door, we surrender and designate the garage for all of the boxes of things we have accumulated over the years and have no idea what to do with, yet we begged our parents to save. The tennis racket circa 1980s, soccer trophies, the art work from first grade, the notes we passed back and forth to our best friends in junior high school--back when they still called it junior high--fill boxes that we forgot even existed until the day Mom and Dad showed up with them in lieu of a house warming present. They muttered something sweet like, "Here's all your crap," then pulled away faster than Mario Andretti. Read More...
