She Told Me to Get My Own Man

Today was the day I cleaned out my storage--for real!!  Once I did the math, I couldn't justify keeping all the books, clothing, old magazines, Fresh Prince T-shirts and MADtv mugs at a cost of $2400 a year.  Once it was a cool write-off, but folks without incomes, don't need write-offs!!

I couldn't manage the task myself.  Had asked an Ex to help, but he got busy, and sounded really happy when I found other help.  That was last week.  This week, I didn't bother to ask.  Nothing worse than feeling beholden to someone who doesn't want to be beheld!

So the mother and the sister came--my old faithfuls.  The diabetics who both need knee surgeries were my standbys. And that folks says all you need to know about my life these days.

After hours of fussing at each other, we got it done--mostly.  The receptionist started announcing that the joint was closing soon.  "It's 4pm- you've got 45 minutes."  We decided to start loading the car.  We had 20 boxes, a tall 4-drawer filing cabinet, a bike, and an antique dining table which the favorite neighbors convinced me to refinish and keep. All of this had to be moved into my sister's 4-door sedan, and my luxury SUV (like how I threw LUXURY in there!). 

We started by putting the table in the SUV.  Cool.  Then the bike.  Not so cool. We tried every which way to put it in the SUV  but it wasn't working, and since I've paid over $10,000 to hold on to my bike, there was no way I was leaving it at Public Storage. 

"It's 4:45 you have 15 minutes."  

By this time, I'm yelling at my mother.  "I said I didn't want to do this shit this weekend.  Why don't I listen to my own voice, when will I stop listening to yours!"

"Fine, listen to yourself and pay another $1000 to store this crap.  I don't care!"

Just then a meticulous Hancock Park couple in their early 30's exited the elevator headed to their BMW. My mother plead "Sir, can you please help us put get this bike loaded." Mrs. Hancock Park looked straight ahead; without asking her permission, Mr. Hancock Park came right over. Mrs. HP shot me a dirty look, got in her car and slammed the door.

Mr. HP had less luck than we.  He'd almost gotten the damn bike into my sis' car, but for some reason, he and mom decided the truck made more sense.  So we made more futile attempts.

"It's 4:55, Public Storage will be closing in 5 minutes."

And as Mr. Hancock Park struggled, Mrs. Hancock Park got out of her car and screamed, "Let's go, NOW!" She looked at me and said, "You really should have gotten your man to take care of this."

Mr. HP muttered an apology, dropped the bike and quickly ran to his car.

I then screamed at mom to help me shove the damn bike into my sis' car, and because I'd said a prayer this time, it actually fit (without ruining the leather upholstery).

"You've got 3 minutes!  The gates will close in 2 minutes!"

There were still 3 large boxes and a file cabinet that weren't going to fit. So sis and I dashed back upstairs reloaded the junk into storage, and with sweat dripping from our arm pits returned to our cars.  We pulled out just as the gates started to lower.

And I had two thoughts:

1) Mrs. HP is a shrew who has no idea how lucky she is to have a "Honey Do..." nor how challenging is when you don't.

2) As much as I love the women in my life, I need my own "Honey Do" or the money to hire one!

(lest I sound like ungrateful shrew, it should be noted that upon our return to my place, I prepared an amazing dinner for mom and sis-- who are the personification of that ridiculous women's anthem- WIND BENEATH MY WINGS!)