Garage of Shame: 15 Things I’m Apparently Hoarding Wrong
I was in my garage this weekend, as one does when trying to escape family, responsibility, or both. And guess what? According to Southern Living, I’ve basically turned it into…
Cluttered corner full of household storage items and vintage electronics.
I was in my garage this weekend, as one does when trying to escape family, responsibility, or both. And guess what? According to Southern Living, I’ve basically turned it into a climate-controlled disaster zone. Except without the climate control.
Apparently, garages are not magical storage portals. They’re just uninsulated boxes of chaos.Iif you live somewhere with heat, humidity, or freezing temps (hello, Boston), your garage is ruining your stuff in real time.
Let’s go through the list of things you’re not supposed to keep in there. Spoiler alert: I own nearly all of them.
Garage No-Nos
- Pet food – No pets. Skated on that one.
- Wine – Oh no. My “emergency wine stash” is just vinegar with a cork now.
- Blankets and clothing – Great. I’ve been saving those “spare” sweaters for moths, apparently.
- Paint – Every can now doubles as a sad, frozen-solid art project.
- Firewood – I thought it was rustic. Turns out it's bug real estate.
- Propane tanks – Perfect. Just casually storing tiny bombs next to my snowblower.
- Important documents – Do old tax returns count as “important”? Because mice are doing their own audits now.
- Photographs – Goodbye, baby photos. Hello, warped, sticky memories.
- Books – Nothing says “I love literature” like letting it mold quietly next to the rake.
- Electronics – If moisture didn’t kill them, upgrades did.
- Art work – I’m no curator, but “garage chic” hasn’t taken off yet.
- Stuffed animals – Those childhood treasures now have spider roommates.
- Pillows – I guess I was just keeping mildew in cushion form.
- Chemicals – It’s like a science experiment back there, minus the supervision.
- Flammable items – Fire hazard? More like fire guarantee.
So now I have to clean out my garage. Again. Good thing Boston isn’t Florida-hot, or this would be an emergency. I'm banking on that New England breeze to buy me a few weeks of procrastination.
In conclusion: garages are not closets, they're chaos caves.
