Your Storage Unit Knows the Real You
And loves you anyway
Hello my friends,
I was in San Diego last week, visiting friends and stalking Married at First Sight couples, because that show just cracks me up. While I was there, I emptied out my storage unit — you know, the one I rented back in 2019 when I started my Gap Year? When I thought I’d be back in 12 months or so, wiser, thinner, and annoying everyone with my newly-acquired bliss?
When I’d never heard of Covid, or attached any significance to January 6, or even entertained the idea that I’d have to write my father’s obituary?
Ah, 2019. The good old days.
As I sorted through the boxes, I was astonished by what 2019-Me had deemed worthy of saving. Baccarat crystal wine glasses. A velvet, 1940’s-style fainting couch. A penis-shaped bottle opener, acquired at a Parisian street fair.
I touched everything gently, saying a final good-bye, then repacked it to donate to nonprofits. (Well, except for the penis-thingy. I put that in my purse, yeah?)
What it had been like? To just live in a box, sleep through the chaotic times, safe and warm in the dark. Just waiting to be needed again.
I could hardly use crystal on my recent Midnight Catfish Rodeo run. My smart San Diego patio furniture would melt in the New Orleans heat and humidity. And those fur-lined hiking boots … what the hell was I thinking?
It hardly seems possible that three short years would be so dramatic (or traumatic), but I feel incredibly proud of the 59-year-old woman who put these boxes here. Who shrugged off her day job and her daily obligations, and flounced off into the future, all by herself. Not knowing that the world was about to explode. Just trusting the Universe that she’d figure it out, no matter what happened.
She gave 2022-Me quite a gift.
Speaking of gifts, Jim Latham took my flash fiction prompts —a coral reef, a Johnny Mathis Christmas album, Asgard — and wrote Working Loki’s Telescope, where he manages to poke fun at my sailing skills, my Jack-and-pretzels obsession, and … Thor.
Yes, Thor.
Despite the (slight) disrepect to the God of Thunder, I hope you’re following Jim … his fiction is often light and funny on the surface, but then has that punch that catches you by surprise. I love reading his stories. Plus he’s an all-around good egg. (And just so you know, Loki, I’m a damn fine sailor! hahaha)
I’m in the Chi now, waving feverishly at my PS I Love You partner in crime Scott Muska, and headed to Louisville soon for a conference. That’s in Kentucky, I’m pretty sure. Also pretty sure that if the Kentucky Bourbon Trail is as smooth and seductive as they claim, I may spend some extra time in the Bluegrass State. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Be good, my friends. And if you can’t be good, holy moly, at least be careful.
Hugs,
Kay
My travel memoir, Breakfast with Alligators: More Tales of Traveling After 50, is available now on Amazon. I’m totally jazzed about it.
