Bursting Out The Seams

By Lynnette Horn

Our house recently told me enough was enough. I could almost hear it heaving under the weight of the load, its walls ready to burst. Even the backyard shed was stuffed to the rafters. Of course, I wasn't the only one who noticed. My husband began complaining about how long it took him to mow the lawn. A full morning to unbury the mower from the shed, an hour to mow, and the afternoon to put everything back.

I knew it was time to look into public storage units, but I felt so embarrassed at the thought. My husband and I live in his childhood home. His parents raised five children in this house, granted a tight fit, but never once considered renting additional storage; yet here we were, empty nesters to boot, unable to make this space work for us. Are we dysfunctional pack rats who can't throw away a worn out pair of shoes or are we part of a trend; a product of our generation?

At first I was ashamed that we needed more space. I felt like a glutton with a weight problem and wanted to camouflage it before anyone noticed. But, when I started looking for a local storage business, the number and variety available astounded me. I knew we couldn't be the only ones. A lot of other people must be suffering with the same problem to spawn such a growth in this industry. It seems like overnight, storage units have popped up like mushrooms all over town.

The manager of the units we settled on said they couldn't build them fast enough to meet the demand. As soon as they're thrown together, they're rented and loaded. He said not to worry; we were just like everyone else, but still I felt a little guilty. Well, really a lot guilty, so we loaded our unit under cover of night.

It was an eerie feeling to see row upon row of long metal buildings standing stark and cold in the cement yard. A full moon cast shadows around their dental white doors, marking the resting places of discarded dinosaurs, entombed mementos and good intentions gone haywire. Our truckload had a few good intentions, a broken appliance or two Al had never gotten around to fixing, boxes of clothes needing only a button sewn or a seam repaired, but mostly we unloaded unwanted dinosaurs,old computers and printers, 8-tracks and cassette players, beta and VHS recorders. Even though they'd past their prime we paid too much to just throw them away.

Suddenly I realized there was no need to feel ashamed. Using our parents as a standard was like comparing donuts to bagels. They never had to deal with the speed technology makes our prized possessions obsolete.

Guilt assuaged, there's no more need for cloak and dagger. You might even see me around our unit in broad daylight. I've been known to pop by to dust the dinosaurs from time to time.  There'll also be others around, who come to the yard just to visit their things, as if they were long departed loved ones. But, if you see me carrying flowers, understand I've gone over the edge... and that will be our secret.