cleaning out trash

I have an alien that lives in my laundry basket. I introduced it to a boy super hero who can run so fast he can run across water. His name is "Dash" and the alien's name is "Fusion."
I also have a donkey, a tiger and a rabbit that live on my bed.

Today we are cleaning out the garage, which has accumulated over a decade's worth of junk, even though we've only lived in this house for eight years. (Only my family could figure out how to achieve that!)

But I guess it's a good thing that we have so much stuff that we don't have anywhere to put it. Even if most of the stuff is broken, rotting or has managed to become the living quarters of rare species of insects.

My Mum is hilarious - she's got a sentimental attachment to a eleven-year-old duster. I was about to throw it away, but she won't part with it. And we just went through about seventy pairs of shoes... felt more like A HUNDRED and seventy - and I wouldn't be surprised if we do have that many hiding in the corners of the garage.

I made friends with a few spiders who were mourning over the bugs who's graves we've demolished during our cleaning spree. We are no-where near finishing, but it's a wonderful adventure going through old junk. You find a lifetime of stories, dust, memories and heirlooms - like my sister's first pair of platform shoes, a pair of hand-crafted slides and pink vintage heels that belong[ed] to my Mum.

Then of course there's the truck-load of boxes that never contain what the lable says. And the old stuffed toys, the old mattress, old clothes... old EVERYTHING. Hahahaha... I could write an encyclopedia set with what we've got in there.

Good times... good times!