I have sinned a lot in my life, far more than I would like to admit. Shamelessly, I have spent money on silly things, elaborate things, and impulsive things. But I think the dumbest thing I’ve ever done was Storage Unit 180. I could have purchased a new car with the dough I wasted on that 10×10! 

When the kids and I moved into their forever home fifteen years ago, we realized that our newly built home lacked something important: sufficient storage. Our condo had copious nooks, crannies, and hidden storage under stairwells and in hallways, and my master bedroom closet doubled as its own storage unit, large enough for a king-size bed, a big-screen T.V. and one Nana.

Truth! My mother lived in my closet for nearly six months. While seemingly outrageous, the closet was the same size as my bedroom. Mae’s teacher called to tell me that she was concerned that Mae was making up stories about her grandmother living in my closet. Nope, all true, I confessed. My mother was stashed away in my closet. I also kept her teacup Yorkie, Snickers, in there with her. I should not be surprised that I got the stink-eye from Mae’s teachers after that.

Anyway! About 18 months ago, I decided that it was finally time to get rid of the history and unburden my soul of this financial sin. Piece by piece, I unraveled the past and got rid of furniture, clothes, trinkets, and decor that I thought would be repurposed at my (dream) lake house someday. But I never got around to buying that weekend getaway, and eventually my tastes and tolerances changed. Very little in Storage Unit 180 appealed any longer. At $150 per month, it was a distasteful reminder that some s*it just must be let go.

My wheeling dealing son helped by posting pics of furniture and decor online, and all featured products were gone within a week. Everything else that could be rehomed was donated to my favorite furball charity. I, however, started to drag my feet and avoided it for about three months. I knew what was in there: things that haunted me.  Finally, I gave in and dove deep.

It was a Saturday morning. I unlocked the unit and started cracking open boxes and plastic totes in search of that demon. Yep, found him. I combed through the pictures from dances, family gatherings, and old “love” letters from high school. I stared long and hard at his photographs, shaking my head as I pitied his eventual fate.

I do not really know what possessed me to keep the pictures of a guy who picked me up by my throat and body slammed me into the hood of a van when I found him out with another girl. The humility and embarrassment were intense. No sixteen-year-old should have to face that. The words of my friend’s mother still rang in my ears: the first time would not be the last. Quickly, I distanced myself from him and let my teachers and school faculty know that he needed to stay away from me at school. They championed me and sternly managed his movement. 

Relieved when he chose vocational school for his last two years, I was able to enjoy what was left of my high school experience. I went on to finish high school, college, grad school, and then move to Texas. Last time I checked, he had relocated to prison for stealing purses at the local mall, #badidea.

So, when it came time to finish emptying out Storage Unit 180, I did not hesitate to trash those pictures along with other reminders that didn’t qualify as good memories. I also didn’t think twice about using a moving company whose community mission statement empowered women, mothers, and agencies who support them. Two Men and A Truck not only does residential moving but they also help crazy women like me to empty storage units, pick up large purchases from retailers, haul junk, and leads the industry in getting moms the help and support they need, making a charitable impact for women’s shelters nationwide.

Two Men employs good, charitable, respectful movers who show up on time, handle things with care, and treat every customer like they are someone’s grandmother (or mother). My guys were awesome and loaded /unloaded my crap in record time, and they were half the cost of the company recommended by the storage facility (can you hear my raspberries imitation?). 

Whether you are trying to get rid of your past, get out of harm’s way, or just need to unload some of your toxic crap, these guys are dependable, reasonable, and show up. I absolutely love upright, stand-up guys and get absolutely giddy for a guy who protects and cares for others (#stars-in-my-eyes and #volunteer). Every woman should have access to at least Two (good) Men. Start with these guys: they’ll always show up when you call. If you need a couple more, drop me a line.

For more information about their charitable work, see them online at twomen.com 


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