Dear Reader,
I'm a shattered shell of my former self after last week's road trip. These are the stats:
Five days.
Nine different states.
Thirty-six hours of driving.
Over two thousand miles travelled.
Approximately one million cups of Starbucks coffee drunk.
And one really interesting lesson about setting learned...
So I packed up and moved my stuff into its storage unit during the pandemic. There wasn't that much of it and I had no idea how long I wanted to store it for so I selected a, uh, budget-friendly location of one of the big storage chains.
This location was on the industrial outskirts of Brooklyn. The streets are wider and quieter, there aren't many trees, and the buildings are mostly huge, slightly-rundown apartment complexes and warehouses.
There was no one around when I moved my things in. The storage facility had loading dock, the interior was clean and well-lit, and there were security cameras everywhere.
This post-pandemic trip, I saw why they needed so many security cameras.
It was about 3pm when Ms Melinda and I arrived to reclaim my things. During the time we hustled suitcases and boxes to our car a group of, uh, ladies of the night gathered on the street opposite the
driveway.
They were playing music, had brought refreshments, and appeared to be exchanging water cooler gossip and
psyching themselves up for the night to come. Their gentleman companion had several friends drop by. Money and small plastic bags appeared to change hands.
Ms Melinda gave me a look that said, "I can't believe you rented here and I am questioning all of your life choices."
My return look probably said, "You're right. You're so right. Now help me shove all this crap in the car so we can leave."
