Rinse & Repeat
A new year message.
“Rinse and repeat”, I told myself.
I switched my mind to HIIT mode, my body into Zone2. In less than two hours I got the job done but I was exhausted to the core.
I moved three carts at a time each overflowing with stuff from my expiring 10x10 storage unit. I pushed them one by one down the 2nd floor hallway, into the elevator, down the 3rd floor hallway, and unloaded them into my new 10x10 unit.
It took me 20 to 25 mins to complete one round of move. Seven rounds later I was done moving all this stuff that we can’t seem to get rid of. They are the remnants of what remain from the years gone by.
The stack of bankers boxes, each packed with random stuff, once had purpose in our lives. Now they lie discarded in a pile of junk, waiting to be sorted, unaware of the power they hold to take us back in time.
The storage containers, each filled with clothes that we can’t get rid of. They remind us of our “cuter” selves, of special occasions, and places we may never see again. Betrayed by our bodies they wait patiently to be rediscovered.
The disintegrating cardboard boxes, each filled mementos, gifts, collectibles, books, movies, and music; stuff that once defined us. They are all pieces of our forgotten identity waiting for a comeback, waiting to be released from the suffocation of the polyethylene bubbles that keep them hidden.
I closed the shutter, locked it, and walked away from it all.
As history repeats itself I am bound to return to them one day. When the cost for public storage units go up, I will reserve another empty 10x10 space to reorganize my memories.
I’ll revisit my shuttered past. I will find them where I had left them, gathering more dust, waiting endlessly to be included, or to be finally let go. Again I will repeat the words,
“Rinse and Repeat.”
As I was walking out, I found Mary carrying out her duties at the Public Storage1 building. She makes multiple rounds through out the day inspecting the units, cleaning the floors, and resetting the recently emptied units.
I wished her a Happy New Year and asked if she was looking forward to 2025. She replied jokingly, “Well, it keeps coming back doesn’t it?”
It made me wonder. Isn’t this just another year of repeat? A repeat of birthdays and anniversaries, of time spend with family and friends, of happy and sad moments, of loss and gain, of healthy choices and grave mistakes, of wants and needs, a repeat of the last 365 days.
Doesn’t this repeat get monotonous after a while? Boring even? We get into a cycle of repetitions even if we try to rinse out some of that behavior by introducing something fresh into our lives - a resolution, a change, a reset, a new habit, a new look, maybe a full reboot for a newer version of us. But even that gets repetitive.
But Mary seems happy and content. Day after day she works in this lonely building full of haunting pasts. Is it a hopeless resignation from life or a greater understanding of it?
I wonder if Mary has a storage unit of her own in the building. If so, what does it contain? What stories will it tell?
As I get ready to repeat another year I wonder if I should find time to revisit the past. I wonder if it will enrich this new year and make it more meaningful.
Maybe that’s why I took three books out of a box, out of my 10x10 unit, out into the world, and back into my life.
It is possible to make do with very little. I once lived in a room 3 x 4 square meters. We accumulate a lot of stuff we don't really need.
As for me, I spend trashing many things and rearranging stuff around. Every year cleaning up junk in house has a cleaning effect on my mind too, to start afresh with less baggage.