Indiana Lones and the Temple of Boo
It’s been over a year since I’ve had access to my storage unit. When my roommate former Ash moved to Los Angeles the keys got mixed up with her stuff, never to be seen again. The building caretaker didn’t have a key, nor did the property management company. My only hope was finding a neighbour who would lend me their key, but I fear social interaction, and didn’t have any pressing reason to get in there, so I let it slide for a long time.
Now I have a key once again. I spent my morning going through the unit, tidying things up and removing stuff that hadn’t been worth storing in the first place. I have a thing about packing boxes. If I buy something and it comes in a box I have this weird compulsion to keep the box, in case I ever need to repack the item for moving. Taking up an unreasonable amount of room in my locker was the box for my Cintiq. I also seem to have a shit ton of guitar hero guitars. Seven of them. I don’t know where they came from. I can account for Four of them.
I’m getting distracted though. While I was going through my boxes I came across artifacts of relationships past. Two boxes containing all of the letters, cards, notes, photos and keepsakes from my two most important relationships.
It’s a weird thing reading old love notes, seeing old photos and finding old gifts and trinkets from former loved ones. It’s not exactly unpleasant, but neither is it super great. It’s nice to remember those good times of course, but it’s a bit of a bummer too.
I put them back after looking through them. I wasn’t sure if I should keep them or not. On the one hand they’re a nice reminder of good times, on the other hand they’re also a reminder that those good times ended. I don’t think about either of those relationships much these days, they were a long time ago. I guess it’s kind of like having a photo album.
On a much more depressing note, I found tons of amazingly cool toys that I had to leave in storage because I don’t have the room to display them currently. I think we can all agree that THAT is the real tragedy here.