The Parable of the Storage Unit
So I went to get some of my things out of storage, some shoes, my sweater coat, and Rob’s printer.
I roll the door up and the first thing I see is my plastic photo box, partially opened. I find that really odd. And I keep looking at it. Then I look around the 5×5 storage unit and I see boxes shifted and opened. And I’m confused.
Because there’s no way, no way, at all there could be a logical explanation since it was locked and I was paying on it since last august 2005.
I must’ve stood there in disbelief for a few minutes; I looked at the boxes that were sealed tight to keep the spiders and other insect critters out of my stuff…which were somehow all opened. I thought was there an earthquake and maybe the weight for the some of the boxes, caused it to open.
But then I saw one book filled with books with a straight cut in it, like someone opened it up with a box cutter. So I said okay, and started to look for the printer. Once I realized that it was gone, I started to look again at the boxes and it sunk in, oh shit, I was robbed!
I couldn’t remember what was taken but I remember I had boxes stacked over five feet and there were small boxes that were missing. I went to the manager, who was a total reptile and not in a flattering way, who insisted upon seeing the lock I was using.
“Oh, it’s a masterlock, those can’t be picked.”
RED FLAG #1
Plus I started noticing the people that had stuff there, vagabonds, people that probably were living in the units. Crack heads and convicts.
He kept insisting that the kind of lock I had couldn’t be picked, it was “impossible.”
He then started to inform me as to keep my mind off the fact that it could’ve been someone in his office or within the compound actually ripped my stuff off.
He proceeded in his web of non-truths that you could only open the lock with a key, and that whoever had the key, and a code stole from me. He asked me who had the key.
I said my friend.
“Does she have a code?” the raspy, non-trusting looking manager of the crack head storage place said.
I said, yeah.
“Well, then she probably did it. Let me tell you something about people that you’ll have to learn, you can’t trust everyone.”
And I was like oh now that’s really smart, of him to suggest such a thing to divert attention from the obvious: it’s obvious that he or someone he knew did it.
And then I respond by telling this guy I don’t know that she’s been taking care of my car. I said the locked was picked.
I tried to get angry. I tried to feel violated and pissed. I tried to find that place of anger and disgust, and victimization. But I couldn’t.
I left the storage unit and drove back into Ojai. Called the sheriff’s office and met them down there later in the day.
My friend came with me.
The sheriff’s showed up and I noticed he kept talking to the people there at the storage unit place, knew some of the tenants by name. I later said to him, “boy you sure know all the crack heads by name.”
He told me the lock I had because of the shape of the key could be easily duplicated by buying another MasterLock, and making a key for my lock. Or that someone simply picked it; it was easy to do it. He said that when you look for a storage place, look out for: security: camera’s, fencing, night guard, and if it’s well-lit.
He said this wasn’t a good place to keep a storage place, but only knew of 3 or 4 burglaries over the years that were reported.
Anyway, through out all of this, though my favorite things were stolen: my red boots and other shoes, my pink crystal lamp and singing bowl. I wasn’t mad or angry, but I did get a little upset when I discovered that this piece of unassuming cardboard was actually holding my enlarged photos that I had for my art shows. Thank god my framed photographs weren’t in there, but safely hanging up in the Athletic Club in Ojai. That’s when it hit me, the disrespect for me, my things and the disrespect this person(s) had for him/herself. I did get upset at that moment, but the stress with my friend and her situation also contributed. We had to get back to Ojai for her salon appointment and it was an hour before her appointment and we had to vacate and pack my car with my belongings yet again.
I was just really amazed on how it all happened, and how the theft didn’t leave me feeling anything, that it was with ease and grace that I could just move through it.
The next morning, I had to sort through the stuff of the guy I was with. I was sorting through clothes that he never wore, old clothes his brother always sent to him. It was like he was dead and going through all of his old t-shirts that he would want and the clothes he never wore. It was cathartic. I just moved through the emotion of loss and let it pass through me. And I realized that I was just going to give away my hampers, hangers and clothes baskets because if I were to move back to California I could just buy it again. And I made a decision to cleanse through the physical stuff and leave nothing that could hold me to a place behind, including my car.
I decided to also sell my car to my friend who I let use when I left for Nepal last August. IT was a natural thing to do, to leave it in her care and natural to just to sell it to her.
So, I have a few things in LA, stored in a friend’s houses. I didn’t want to burden them with my stuff either.
It was interesting because my friend that I was staying with in Ojai, has the animal totem cards, and two fell out as I was getting a book out from under the loose desk, it was the Frog (cleansing, purification) and owl (wisdom, seer). And that’s exactly what happened last week in Ojai.
Tags: Ojai, The Path of Life, Travel
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