Where Do You Want It, Ma'am?

Late afternoon, a Friday, mid-June

Up backed a truck, it was yellow.

"Where do you want it, ma'am?" he said.

"Public storage," I replied.  "Oh, please?"

My request denied, out came the stuff.

Four years of things quite belov-ed.
"It'll never fit!" "It will!"  "It won't."
Turns out it did and it didn't.
There's a desk in the place where we dine,
And a toaster treadmill-adjacent.
There's a coffee table by our bed,
And a mountain bike on the landing.
There are boxes of books, too many to count.
There's a big need for organizin'.
"Relax," he said.  "It'll fit.  You'll see."
Then he took a nap, he deserved it.