We are moving. Actually, we have been moving for quite some time now. Because moving doesn’t just happen one day and it’s over. Even after the completion of the anxiety-provoking, sleepless-night inducing purchase of one house and sale of another phase, which should usher in a relaxed, euphoric stage, the work still isn’t over. Moving is a process, drawn out over a very long, seemingly endless period of your life that you’ll never get back and for which you do nothing but move. It’s comprised of many moving parts that are mini processes unto themselves and just as endless. This post is about but one of those myriad components. Storage lockers. It’s about procuring a unit in order to have a place in which to cram all your worldly possessions in order to sell your house and, ultimately, the collection of all that crap at the end of the whole process.
Which is where we are right now.
When we hauled the last of our junk into the relatively small (by storage locker standards) cube of raw warehouse space and I looked up at the towering stacks of storage containers, I had the strong urge to slam the metal garage door shut on all of it and never go back. Just leave it there. While I couldn’t clearly remember every item in all those boxes, I knew I didn’t want any of it.
I like my stuff well enough, but it would just be easier to start over.
Standing there in the dim, empty hallway of the storage facility taking in the packed locker, literally stuffed to the rafters, my mind immediately recalled the show, “Storage Wars.” I used to watch a lot of that show because The Kid was mesmerized by it. That’s what she aspires to be when she grows up. A garbage collector. Ever since she was a young child The Kid’s had a special gift for trash collection, and when her sights alighted on that show she knew instantly that was the life for her. Much like, I imagine, a young gymnast knows she’s destined for the Olympics.
So I’ve seen more than my fair share of “Storage Wars,” and whenever I watched it I always had the same thought. Who would abandon all their possessions like that? Who wouldn’t come back to get their belongings?
Now I know.
Although I’d really like to press reset on my life, I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to cart every last box, tool, chair and lamp from the storage unit over to the new place, unload it and find a brand new spot to store it.