My Dad rarely, if ever, asked for help with anything around the house. I usually ended up helping him bring groceries up the stairs, or laundry, or bringing down garbage and recyclables from the kitchen or bathrooms.
Sometimes he’d make it halfway up the stairs with a sack of rice before I knew what he was doing. I’d bring it up the rest of the way.
When he moved back home in 2016, the basement and garage was filled with the moving boxes from his place up in Washington state. I kept asking if we could reorganize or clear a lot of the boxes so one or both of us could park inside the garage. He kept insisting that he’d get to it, eventually, and while he did empty a few boxes and dumped stuff, the garage was never cleared.
So I did that this weekend, dumping and rearranging the boxes so I could park my car back inside the garage.
The best part?
The boxes are situated so I can go through a few every weekend, and do more dumping. They were not so arranged before my reshuffle. I just need to back my car out and have plenty of room to sort through the rest of the boxes.
And then I can start on the basement. Again.