Self-Storage

My storage locker looks nothing like Walt's.

Public storage.  There's something I never knew about growing up as a delicate Jewiss in West L.A.  At no point did my parents sit me down in the den and say, "Honey, we're putting a few things in storage, including you.  We're a little tired of the mood swings.  We'll take you out when that phase passes."

Cluttered closets and drawers?  Those, I knew from.  Still do.  I have an office closet full of I-have-no-idea-what. One day, I'll deal with it all. One day soon, in fact. I need to make room for some things. I've got storage to deal with, people.  Public storage. The kind you pay money for, or, if you're Walter White, hide your money in.  Every time hubby and I go to our rented storage locker down the street, I think of "Breaking Bad." I can't help it. I associate public storage with criminal activity. In my brain, public storage is a Major Plot Point.  How long till they find the money/body/stolen jewels in storage.

And yet, down the street, there's quite a parade of literature boxed up. Down the street, there are plays and novels. Old scripts from "My Favorite Martian," "Dobie Gillis" and "Petticoat Junction." Entire seasons of "Diff'rent Strokes." "The Birth of the Baby" from "All in the Family." "Our Man Flint" and "Texas Across the River." "The Pad" and "How To Commit Marriage." All written (or co-written) by Mr. Ben Starr. There's so much history crammed into one storage locker, it's mind-boggling.  All I can say is this:  Oy gevalt. What to do with it all? Procrastinate?  I like that idea very much.

But no, I need to deal with it. I need to get 'er done.  There's more donating and shlepping in store for the SJG. Am I up for it?  Uh, no. Not really. It's tempting to freeze time, to put it all on hold.  But something tells me (in the form of a steep monthly bill)  that I need to pull into that long cold driveway, and try to remember the code that opens the gate.  With hubby by my side, I'm going to check inside those boxes one more time, and figure out what the eff to do with all that treasure behind the bright orange door.