Before the blooms there are the brooms

Now that the feet of flakes are behind us (hopefully), tidying up around the homestead can begin in earnest.

As per our New Year's resolutions to be more active (yes, remember when you pledged that?), I fear it's time to actually make good and make our surroundings look good.

Since I am one of the allergy variety, spring cleaning is not my favorite activity. Soon us gardening types will be out, rake and wheelbarrow at the ready, to massage the soil for the impending floral displays.

But I, like most everyone I suppose, get a good deal of pleasure out of finishing a task, standing back (or better yet looking out over that area from the couch if possible) and combining a sigh of relief with a sense of accomplishment.

If you're like me, you've swept (or squeegeed) the road stuff out of the car bays on at least one occasion since snow started flying late last year. And now that I have all those snow-shoveling muscles built up, I might as well show them off to the wife and impress her with my cleaning abilities ... well, maybe impress is too strong a word ... appease might be more suitable.

So it was without further ado that the wife and I proceeded to team up and tackle the garage recently. Even though I had built trusty 2 X 4 racks to stack multitudes of boxed treasures on the sides, we have a trail of items piling up between vehicles, and walking room has been hard to come by, even in the alcove next to the door to the backyard.

As always, I checked with the boss on a course of action. I have learned through much sweat equity that doing it my way without any such consultation is more often that not A) wrong; B) partially wrong; or C) close to the way she had envisioned it, but actually, wrong when push comes to shove.

So after getting the skinny, we dove in to see what we could accomplish. Inevitably, you'll come across something early in your project that will sidetrack you. If you're lucky, the sidetrack will happen to your wife, and she won't notice you jamming a bunch of her stuff into a semi-full box to "fill it out" before it is hoisted into position. Time, you see is of the essence. The couch beckons.

A word to the wise on the proper use of Sharpies: use early, use often. Marking the contents of storage boxes in the garage will save you time (read: time that should be spent on the couch with remote in hand) looking for items that the wife knows are "out there somewhere, because they sure aren't here in the house."

Invariably, the boss will change the project's scope or objective somewhere near the end of the project. At this time it is imperative to not lose your cool. You knew this was coming: Don't panic, this might work out in your favor if she had a brainstorm and came up with a more efficient solution to attacking the clutter.

I think it's in man's DNA to try to get an 8-hour project done in 3-4 hours so you can hit the couch and watch football, golf or hoops on TV in the afternoon. Not only do you feel a sense of accomplishment, you got it done ahead of schedule and now the action on the boob tube is your distraction when the wife, upon inspection, comes in and announces one or more of the following:

• She found more stuff that belongs in the garage

• She found the stuff you shoved into that box, and now dinner for you is probably something from Chef Boyardee

• She found another project for you next weekend, now that your muscles are in shape for it

• She determined most of the stuff you have in boxes out there is "worthless" and why don't you throw it out?

C'mon guys: you knew that last one was coming. Even though your beer posters and all that other crap from college is long gone, no matter what you accumulate within the garage perimeter, its shelf life is in direct correlation with its accumulation of dust.

At halftime of the game, the wife declares next weekend's project - the garage sale. Yes, all that stuff you meticulously stacked now has to be undone, and rifled through to your neighbor's content.

Suddenly, your back just tightened up considerably.

Jerry Hitchcock is a copy editor for The Press. You can hear his gravel-y voice at 664-8176 Ext. 2017, or write to him via e-mail at jhitchcock@cdapress.com.