I refer to our suburban storage unit as our place in the country. Lately, I’ve been thinking about all the stuff we’ve practically forgotten about, stuff we continually pay rent to store. That makes it relatively expensive stuff that we don’t use and probably don’t need. I come here to clear my head once in a while.
portfoliolongo 
I tried to comment on this the day you posted it and WordPress and Facebook were having a fight and I gave up. I was able to comment on today’s post ( 12/20/13) I’m going to try again! Here goes: “I always swore that I would never be one of those people paying for a storage unit! After my husband’s parents died, guess what I have? and I can’t even call it “my place in the country” because it’s in the middle of Omaha!!! No longer a convenient place because the aforementioned husband doesn’t work close by that location any longer! Paul, you said you go there sometimes to clear your head and my comment was “or when Ann tells you to go to the shed!” My parents used the barn on our farm in Eighty Four in a similar way! As in “you better go to the barn!” (Mom to Dad) or (Dad to Mom). “I’m going to the barn!” Probably saved their marriage or their sanity more than once in 50 years of marriage!
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How sweet to hear “Eighty Four!” When I was a monk, a much older confrere would repeatedly say, “Hey, you’re from Canonsburg, right?” I’d say, “Yes, Father.” He’d say, “Isn’t that on the other side of Eighty Four?” I’d say, “It is, Father.” He’d follow up with – each and every time – “Then, why don’t they call it Eighty Five!” After a boyish grin he’d shuffle away.
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