Garage Sale Prep(AKA Hell)

I spent most of the day in the garage.  And most of yesterday.  I hate the garage.  It smells like oil and cat pee and everything is covered with the residue of something I don't want to touch (don't get me wrong, I've touched a lot of disgusting things, sometimes willingly, and not complained too much- so it isn't a wussiness issue).
Jeremy and I spent quality time in the garage today.  He, whistling and sorting through 25 pounds of accumulated screw drivers, and me trying not to complain about the screwdriver collection or the whistling.  I am spiteful regarding the screw drivers because we can never find one when we need it.  Apparently they are only visible to the naked eye when no one needs them, so we go to the store and buy more screw drivers to intermingle with the lost screwdrivers and then the kids throw them all over the garage and the cats pee on them and I get angry.  Or maybe bitter?  As for the whistling, I'm pretty sure he only does it when he knows I'm on the edge of a hormonal abyss (otherwise known as middle aged motherhood) and trying not to throw things covered in cat pee at him.  Sigh.  Deep breath.
Today, we managed to clean out most of the garage in preparation to have a garage sale.  I've stated for the last 5 years that I never want to have a garage sale again, and in the last 5 years have managed to have about 5 sales.  It is the only way I ever get the garage cleaned out, and I use it as an opportunity to count the screwdrivers which disappear in between garage cleanings.  The kids use it as an opportunity to count cash and argue about who should get the money for the family gifts I bought last year at Christmas.
After we almost finished cleaning out the garage, we drove to Jeremy's dad's house to help him clean up his garage.  We had a lot of practice at that point and his garage didn't smell like cat pee, so it went quickly and we loaded up the couple of things (van full) he wanted to get rid of.  Tomorrow my mom is coming to help price things and get them set out in some sort of friendly marketing display so that the dozen or so people that show up bright and early Thursday morning can peruse items and make low ball offers.
I won't get a chance to go to the new old house until Saturday, and I'm already feeling the tug of missing it.  I think that is a good sign.  I feel like I belong there instead of here.  I can think of nothing I'd rather be doing then listening to the 1920's playlist I made for the house and painting the slightly tilted walls a second coat of happy colored paint.  Well, nothing I'd rather do except maybe throw things in the garage.  There is always tomorrow....