Mini-storage

If only I had had the vision to invest in the mini-storage business. Storage units are a phenomenon of our time (along with garage sales where mini-storage junk is transferred from one person’s unit to another's). Yesterday, we sat and watched for several hours as our kids stuff was unloaded from an eighteen wheeler into three ten by fifteen units in an industrial park in Bellingham. It wasn’t easy finding a space available. Many people need the mini-storage. I had time to walk around the facility and compute that the gross annual take from this acre or so of land with it’s flimsy metal studded, metal clad buildings was about $180,000. Not a bad haul. $180m will amortize a building loan at a rapid rate. Personally, I feel very resentful about mini-storage since I’ve been paying rent on a unit since 1992. The total amount paid is more than the value of the stuff stored. I could have almost built my own. I flatter myself on traveling light and I can attest that inside our storage unit there is very little that can be blamed on me. I pretty much stay away from the place since it reminds me of the $125 per month that, in my opinion, is going down the drain. Obviously, this is an argument that I’ve lost. We’ve had the mini-storage unit so long that we are the senior customer of this facility, rewarded at Christmas time by a small box of Goodies Chocolates. Granted, Goodies are just about the best chocolate I’ve ever eaten. But the price is too high. Certainly, there are treasures to be found in a storage unit. But, it’s as if a pile of secondary memories, not important enough to be kept in the house, have been compressed into a rectangular bale like old wrecked cars that we used to love. Once, after a quick trip to our storage unit I was moved to poetry, to wit:

A QUICK TRIP TO MINI-STORAGE

With due solemnity
I entered our consecrated cave
Head down
Picking my way carefully
Past the icons
My torch casting jagged patterns
On the metallic wall
Checking the manifest
Of the High Priestess
Which indicated the desired relic.

Around me stacked high
Was proof of our country’s genius—
Creations of a nation.
Suddenly enfeebled
By the weight of remembrance—
Sparked by the shapes, smells & colors
Of this small temple—
I slumped into a wing-back chair
Surrounded by irrefutable confirmation
Of a people’s ability to
Ferment  a need and desire
For just about anything—
Chuckling, almost silently,
As memories leaped holographically
About the sacred preserve
Narrating a surfeit of retail covenants.

I wished I could take each item
From its special place
Unwrap it,
Stare at it in wonder,
Estimate its value,
Accumulate the total
And report to our children
The vested value of their endowment.
Thus calmed by such pleasant visions
Of our success and with infinite awe,
I cradled the chosen ark in my embrace
And backed out carefully
Rolling the metaphorical rock
To lock the door

Driving quickly away
As instructed by the High Priestess
Overwhelmed with pride
As the low silhouette of The sacred caves,
Pilgrimage place of the Empire,
Was reflected in  my viewing glass.
          Copyright 1993, RMSmith

Comments

[Max Champion]

Hmm, are you still renting your storage space? It can be a little costly to pay it monthly, but it definitely is worth the price of securing all your goods. And don't forget the small box of Goodies Chocolates come Christmas time! LOL!