Today was odd. Haven't rented storage space since the first overseas stint in 1991. Lot's more paperwork, insurance, smaller space for the buck. But for $44 I now have a 5x5 space to store the items that came into my possession from Mom, or Mom's Mom. You know the stuff.
Hung a 12x20 tarp in the attempt to fend off whatever precipitation blows in the next 48 hours and then started the load out. Furniture, a generator, lawn mower, more chairs than Ikea stocks and assorted odds and ends that I am sure would stretch from here to Sanford & Sons place if laid tail to tip.
My back hurts already. My knees are weak. I wish this was over.
All my neighbors have been coming over to inquire and offer an ironic combination of congratulatory remorse. Nobody, but me, talks much about the 'what ifs', mostly it's 'the change will do you good.' Please allow me to say once more, there is nothing like good neighbors.
It has been a wild ride. Thirty years. Wow. Gone. We had some fun. I traveled the world with this tiny plot of sod as home base. I have hung many hats here, always eager to return after time away. We almost made it. We almost had it all. I made more mistakes than I care to count. Water, meet bridge.
Today, as I haul accumulated junk out to the farmers market in my yard, I fight the urge to second guess. Did I give up? Was this all an ill-advised and cowardly escape strategy? Am I truly the biggest fool to ever hit the small time?
Or am I one lucky SOB, still able to run to the edge of the cliff and then stop on a dime? With the sole responsibility to keep one dancing step ahead of the shoe shine?
You have heard me say on these pages many times that change is good.
This change is gonna be REAL good.
With a dash of odd.
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