Rick and I have rented yet another storage unit in Manhattan.
As you may remember, in addition to the apartment where we actually live, we already have one place for our junk way uptown. Now we have another one on 23rd Street. The two of us are becoming quite the real estate moguls.
So today Rick went up to our new unit in Chelsea and filled out the required paperwork.
“You have to agree to the Good Neighbor Policy,” said the Manhattan Mini Storage employee.
“It means you agree to not store anything illegal. No drugs. No firearms. No dead bodies.”
Rick laughed. “You have my word,” he promised.
“Ok. That’s good. But we’re also going to need a signature.”
No dead bodies?! Well, NOW what are we going to do with them all? Shove them all under the bed?
And let’s just say you are the type of person who would actually murder someone. It seems like you might not stress too much about Manhattan Mini Storage’s “Good Neighbor Policy.”
We rented the storage unit because we want to de-clutter our apartment a bit in case we decide to sell.
Of course, as we try to move out some of our belongings and a lot of toys, 4 year-old Dylan has a growing list of things she wants for Hanukkah and Christmas.
Like this big hobby horse from the local drugstore that looks like it would provide about 4 whole minutes of entertainment before being shoved in a closet. Actually, 4 minutes might be optimistic.
I asked my mother today if there was anything she wants for Christmas.
She asked me for a cassette player.
I gave her a CD player a few years back but apparently she is looking for something a bit more outdated.
She explained that she has two Buddhist cassettes that she can only play in the car and she wants to be able to play them at home.
I explained to my mother that there was just NO WAY that anyone sells cassette players anymore. They are hanging out in the Sam Goody graveyard, chatting it up about the glory days of the 80’s when everyone was making a mix tape for their boyfriend or girlfriend.
And as it turns out, I was completely wrong. They do still sell them. See what I mean?
So I guess if I can’t find her tapes in that fancy new CD form, I’ll just buy her the cassette player.
I just want my mom to be happy.
And plus she would just look so ultra cool with her own boom box, blasting her enlightening meditation tapes down the streets of Durham, North Carolina.
The above photo is actually not my mother. Any resemblance is completely coincidental and not intended.