I have never been obsessed with possessions. I take pride in the fact that my life doesn’t take up too much space. The less area humans occupy, the more room there is for wild places. The less baggage I haul around, the lighter I feel. Just a few days ago, I was forced to consider the size of my world.
“How much space do you need?” the owner of the storage unit asked over the phone. “I usually have 10x10’s, 10x15’s, and 10x30’s. All depends on how much stuff you got. Most of the units are filled up with my junk. I just have one 10x30 available right now.”
A 10x30 seemed massive, but I decided to snag it before someone else did. I needed to move my belongings right away – my house-sitting job is over - and this small town storage facility is just one building away from the house I am vacating.
I am still looking for a new place to live. I have moved too many times to count on my fingers and toes. It’s not that I enjoy the chore of moving, it’s just that I take pleasure in living in new towns and landscapes, and meeting all kinds of different people. Plus, I always like a good deal – I hate to spend too much money on my “parking spot” in life.
I have resided in some of the most awesome places in Montana just because I am willing to pack my knapsack and go for it. On moving day, your true friends are the ones who show up at your door with boxes, a dolly, leather gloves, and big smiles. They toil all day long in exchange for a pepperoni pizza and a case of beer. Considering my nomadic lifestyle so far, I have been fortunate to always have friends there to help break camp.
Just a few days ago, I made three new friends during my move. As I was packing and labeling plastic crates to go to my new cave, the people I’d been house-sitting for (who I’d never met in person) showed up with a trailer full of their possessions. The three women (two sisters and their friend) had driven all the way from Texas that day; they carried boxes into the house as I hauled mine out to my truck. And then they made an extraordinary offer.
“When we get this horse trailer unloaded, we’ll throw your stuff into it and take it over,” they said with wide grins on their faces – like hauling some miserably heavy, cumbersome furniture would actually be fun for them.
I was stunned. I had just met these people and they wanted to help me lug all of my hardwood antiques (passed down from my grandparents) to my unit. They refused to take no for an answer. But first, they insisted on firing up the grill and cooking some lamb chops for all of us for dinner. They did moving right.
“I really, really appreciate your help,” I told them as we tried to shove my overstuffed love seat through a bizarrely narrow doorway.
“What goes around comes around,” one of the women answered.
“God knows, I move a lot too – I need all the good moving karma I can get.” It took us just an hour to move the most substantial part of my world from the house to the storage unit. We all stood back and admired my stuff labeled and stacked and organized. I silently wished all of this baggage would just “poof!” – disappear.
“Geeze, girl, this is nothing!” one of the sisters said to me as if she could read my mind.
“You should see the moving van we’ve got coming.”
“We’ve been talking about getting rid of it all, buying a travel trailer, and hitting the open road,” the other sister added.
“You should get your own and come with us.”
Hmmm… a very tempting thought. A mobile 10x30 is much more fun and useful than a stationary one.
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