I went over to the storage facility to retrieve the "de-clutter" that we had left over there. Following the advice of all the real estate experts, Mark and I took a huge pile of household crap and stored it away. And when I say "Mark and I", I mean that I packed the shit in boxes, I loaded it all into the PT Cruiser, I un-loaded it from the car, and I schlepped it all up to the storage locker. Mark drove the car. When it came time to reverse that process, I again did all the heavy lifting and this time I drove the car. It was easier to cut Mark out of the equation.
I hadn't been over to that place since way back in April and not only had I forgotten the code to get in, when I did get in I forgot exactly where our locker was. I was like a rat in a maze. Every hallway looked exactly like the hallway before it. Every door looked just like the door next to it. After wandering through the place for about fifteen minutes I gave up and called them on my cell phone. "Please, could you come up to the second floor, find me, and then help me find my locker?"
Now that I have brought everything back home, I am awash in boxes. I am amazed that we actually had all this shit here in our home, and what's worse, we were planning on dragging it all up to Chicago. I am not unpacking these things, so I now have to find a place for all of it, and I've been very creative. Like a squirrel preparing for winter, I have found a lot of places to put these boxes. Some are under the table that the television sits on. I stashed a whole bunch of them behind some of Mark's book cases. I've filled all the closets with them, and I wrapped a bunch in plastic and put them out in the shed. Now the only thing I have to worry about is Mark. He still wants that goddamned five hundred dollar blender that I packed away.