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Last trip to Methuen
Feb. 22nd, 2009 01:36 amThis morning my body woke me up half an hour before my alarm clock had planned. I was happy to be up.
I got showered, cooked some breakfast and packed a couple things into the car. Then I drove up to Methuen for my last visit to my old storage locker.
I used up three 3-D dry sheets when I swiffered the floor. Then I declared it clean enough and went to the office. I wound up postponing the nice woman's cigarette break, but she was very polite about it.
We talked about the missing carts in the building as we walked to my upstairs locker. When I opened the account in late 2005, there were at least six orange dollies for wheeling stuff to the lockers. We counted three by the time I left. There were usually one or two, but sometimes none. She told me about a day that started with four carts and ended with zero. Some of the dollies have reappeared as people move out.
I removed the padlock and lifted the overhead door one last time. She stared for one and a half seconds then said "Great! Leave it open and we'll close the account." We went back downstairs and I received a receipt.
I began my drive back to the city. It felt like I was erasing the roads to that location.
I later went to the Hot Foods Party and spoke to lots of folks. Many admitted to having lockers of their own which they wanted to purge.
A woman from Vermont told me an even better story of an ex that started storing things under her bed and in her closet without her consent. One day she came home and found her pet rabbit had burrowed a warren into the pile in the closet. What really set her off was finding a carboy of mead in the middle of the room, as if this wouldn't be noticed.
It turned out the boyfriend had another apartment where he already had a stash of crap. He kept everything, whether he had any clue what to do with it or not. He was building an empire of crud, one that knew neither limits nor morals. She then dragged everything into the common room of her apartment and wound up with twenty feet of stuff. This included eight computers.
She told the boy nothing that crossed out of her room may cross back over the threshold. A couple things started to appear over the next few days. Then the carboy showed back up and she tossed it all back out. Eventually the boy left when his ex showed up for a visit.
I really enjoyed hearing this story. It made me feel normal.
I feel like a strange savior: I am in a binge to purge the collection of unnecessary items. I have seen my flaws and am working to amend them. I can feel the space being more valuable than the unused items. I am fighting a lineage of pack rats because it's giving me structure while I hunt for work. I will labor against my lesser nature and enjoy the journey.
Yeah, it feels good. I've earned my sleep. Tomorrow I start the next battle -- in my back room, in my mud room and in my bedroom.
-carving a purpose, Dante
I got showered, cooked some breakfast and packed a couple things into the car. Then I drove up to Methuen for my last visit to my old storage locker.
I used up three 3-D dry sheets when I swiffered the floor. Then I declared it clean enough and went to the office. I wound up postponing the nice woman's cigarette break, but she was very polite about it.
We talked about the missing carts in the building as we walked to my upstairs locker. When I opened the account in late 2005, there were at least six orange dollies for wheeling stuff to the lockers. We counted three by the time I left. There were usually one or two, but sometimes none. She told me about a day that started with four carts and ended with zero. Some of the dollies have reappeared as people move out.
I removed the padlock and lifted the overhead door one last time. She stared for one and a half seconds then said "Great! Leave it open and we'll close the account." We went back downstairs and I received a receipt.
I began my drive back to the city. It felt like I was erasing the roads to that location.
I later went to the Hot Foods Party and spoke to lots of folks. Many admitted to having lockers of their own which they wanted to purge.
A woman from Vermont told me an even better story of an ex that started storing things under her bed and in her closet without her consent. One day she came home and found her pet rabbit had burrowed a warren into the pile in the closet. What really set her off was finding a carboy of mead in the middle of the room, as if this wouldn't be noticed.
It turned out the boyfriend had another apartment where he already had a stash of crap. He kept everything, whether he had any clue what to do with it or not. He was building an empire of crud, one that knew neither limits nor morals. She then dragged everything into the common room of her apartment and wound up with twenty feet of stuff. This included eight computers.
She told the boy nothing that crossed out of her room may cross back over the threshold. A couple things started to appear over the next few days. Then the carboy showed back up and she tossed it all back out. Eventually the boy left when his ex showed up for a visit.
I really enjoyed hearing this story. It made me feel normal.
I feel like a strange savior: I am in a binge to purge the collection of unnecessary items. I have seen my flaws and am working to amend them. I can feel the space being more valuable than the unused items. I am fighting a lineage of pack rats because it's giving me structure while I hunt for work. I will labor against my lesser nature and enjoy the journey.
Yeah, it feels good. I've earned my sleep. Tomorrow I start the next battle -- in my back room, in my mud room and in my bedroom.
-carving a purpose, Dante
