Several weeks ago we tackled the garage. I wish I’d taken a real “before” picture. When we moved into this house last May, the garage became a dump zone. The removals men put stuff in there in such a random and higgledy piggledy way that it was impossible to find anything, or distinguish between the rubbish and the stuff in storage.
All the boxes we use to move our electricals had become damp and mouldy so they went. All the packing materials that had been dumped in there went. Most of the things we were keeping “just in case” (with the exception of the spare kettle) went. Our childhood belongings that had been passed to us by our parents got whittled down, and a few things went. The things we wanted to keep in storage got organised into plastic crates and labelled, so that the next move is easier. And the doll’s house made for me by my Dad when I was small got wrapped up carefully so it doesn’t get damaged.
Unfortunately we had to move some things like the tent and sleeping bags back into the house as they were at risk of getting damp, but all in all I estimate we got rid of about forty things, and five bags of rubbish.