The storage unit conundrum
It’s easy to act all hoity-toity on here, shunning the conventional lifestyle in our materialism-driven society. I can proudly point to my well-worn (bordering on shabby) backpack and suitcase, my repeated outfits, my thrown-away store credit cards.
And then I remember my storage unit. That lovely 10X5 square feet of concrete and metal siding, stuffed to the brim with my stuff. A practically-new and ridiculously comfortable couch and ottoman. The one-of-a-kind side table, found in a Berkeley vintage shop that has gone from white to bright turquoise to muted maroon, to match my décor and supposed maturity level. The remnants of my well-stocked kitchen: a food processor, slow cooker, baking pans. The hand-made scrapbook crafted for my 21st birthday by my sorority sisters.
Namely, it’s my life. In a box. It’s the things that define me, even though I’ve rudely deserted them to define myself differently.
I’ve pondered getting rid of it all. Having a massive garage sale, or listing it all on eBay—my generation’s version of a garage sale. I’ve already decided to sell my car, the trusty little silver fox that I started saving for when I was barely 12 years old. Between constant gas refills and long-overdue repairs, it’s become remarkably expensive, that symbol of freedom that I was so desperate to buy when I turned 16.
But I’ve already decided that wherever I settle down, it will be an urban center with public transportation, handy bike paths and a Zipcar membership. It’s not as easy to dream up a ready-made solution to a living room without furniture or a kitchen without utensils. And I can’t imagine living anywhere with blank walls or bare tables.
As expensive as my storage unit rent is, I can’t imagine having to start from scratch when I decide I want to—whenever that may be. Those every-other-day trips to Ikea and Target when I was setting up my first studio quickly added up to my credit limit. Selling it all for less than half of its value, just to have to one day buy it all again? Doesn’t seem like the most brilliant plan.
And call me a consumerist fool, one that buys into the sentimental value of objects and things. But the thing is, I like my stuff. I can’t wait (well, OK, I can) for the day where I can snuggle into my own, glorious bed. I’m looking forward to the day where I set up house and rediscover all the neat things I’ve picked up around the world and long forgot about.
Being experience-rich is still more important than stocking up on more and more possessions. But the possessions I’ve kept around have a certain intangible value to me, ones that I’d rather let get dusty than get rid of them.
Do you keep a storage unit when you travel? Do you think it’s a wise investment? If not, did you regret getting rid of things?
