We call the extra bedroom the "catchall." But the garage is simply a mess ... a real mess.

Now, I'm sure that most of you can't really relate to that. You're garage is well organized with storage on one side, a work bench on the other, and two cars in between. But we couldn't get two cars into our garage if we stacked them one on top of the other!

I recall some presidential candidate over a half century ago making a campaign promise of, "A chicken in every pot, and two cars in every garage!" Well, it's obvious he never saw my garage.

Actually, it was listed as a two-car garage when we purchased the home. (Yeah? Well it was supposed to have four bedrooms, too!) But we could no sooner get two cars in there now than we could get, say, a bed into that fourth bedroom. Well, that's not entirely accurate—we couldn't get one car in that garage!

The dictionary calls that appendage off the family room "a structure for parking or storing motor vehicles." Now, I suppose that the garage is a place where some people keep their cars at night. But, personally, I think people with garages that clean have entirely too much time on their hands.

At our house, our garage has very little to do with storing motor vehicles. Our cars live outside in the driveway, where they belong. How else can we cover up those oil stains? No car could squeeze into our two-car garage, because it's home to:

* The old family room couch ... the sectional that used to have a bed that folded out, except the boys used it as a trampoline for so long that the bed is now permanently "welded" into the framework.

* The pile of garage sale stuff (and we're going to have a garage sale any time now ... anyone interested in buying a slightly used salad shooter?).

* The weight machine that the boys just had to have, then used for about a week and a half after Christmas Day ... 1992!

* Five and a half bicycles ... three with tires, two with chains, and one of them with a combination of the two.

* The boxes of Christmas ornaments that I still haven't gotten around to putting back up in the rafters ... they're on the floor with the boxes of Halloween and Easter decorations.

* Three sets of golf clubs, which would be fine if any of us played golf.

* Five pieces of slightly broken lawn furniture (remind me to move those to the garage sale pile).

* The 21-year-old's pet hamster that he lost out there 10 years ago while cleaning the cage.

* The treadmill and the exercise bike that were banished to the garage when we purchased the Health Rider to pile our clothes on in the bedroom.

* The college apartment furniture that's just visiting for the summer.

* The washing machine ... and I'm told that the dryer is supposed to be right next to it somewhere, but it's difficult to tell.

"That's it," I said disgustedly last weekend as I announced to the family, "We have got to clean out this garage."

"Love to help, Dad," said the oldest, "but I've got baseball practice today."

"Baseball season's over," I said sternly.

"Uh, well, yeah," he stammered, "but we're starting to practice for next year. Bye." And he was outta there faster than a Barry Bonds home run.

The college kid was a bit more discreet. As soon as he heard me say, "We have got to clean," he simply vanished.

So that left the job to me.

As I stumbled over pieces of a broken swing set, an old car battery and a battered wading pool, I just shook my head and headed back inside.

"Next weekend, for sure!"

Want to talk? Call me at 408.354.3110, ext. 31, or drop me a note at dsparrer@svcn.com.