Twelve years of 'I'll sort it later' in Surfers Paradise

I'm in Surfers Paradise, and I'll be honest: I put this off for far too long. Our double garage hadn't seen a car since about 2014. My husband swore it was organised chaos. I'm reasonably sure it was just chaos.

Along one wall were boxes from our last move that had never been opened. The other side had timber offcuts, a mower that wouldn't start, garden pots, and an old couch my son used as a 'gaming area' for one summer.

Surfers Paradise is a dense high-rise beachside centre where most homes are apartments and short-stay units, and getting things out isn't always simple. Metered street frontage is limited along Cavill Avenue and the Esplanade, so we usually load from basement car parks or side service lanes.

I half expected to be put on hold, but it was the bloke who'd actually be doing the job. He asked about stairs and parking, which made me think he'd done this a few times.

Two of them turned up right on time in a tipper truck. Before they lifted anything, they walked the route from the pile to the truck and pointed out a couple of spots where they'd put down protection.

The leaning shelving turned out to be holding up more than we thought. The crew unloaded it top-down and took the shelving apart instead of just dragging it, which was just as well, because the back legs had rusted through.

When they were done, they swept up and walked me around to check. I paid the price we'd agreed, and that was it. The whole thing took less time than I'd spent worrying about it.

My advice to anyone in the same situation is not to wait as long as I did. The relief was worth more than the cost.