self-storage

Well, last night the term "self storage" almost took on a new meaning...

Three of us were helping our sister Jane move furniture out of her house so she can get a new roof. Jane had found a new self-storage place nearby that offered free use of a large truck, and we were trying to get the job done before the truck turned into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight. But Mary was at her house, stirring a fresh pot of gumbo, expecting to feed all of us, plus Mom and Dad (who were still at home). So about quarter to seven (gumbo time) I went to pick up Mom and Dad, drop them off at Mary's and then meet the others at the storage place to help unload the truck and get Jane's possessions in place. Well, I found the address, and sure enough, there was Jane behind an electric gate. But the code she gave me didn't work to open the gate. After a few tries, she dismissed me to go have some gumbo.

By 8:45, the truck crew had still not arrived at Mary's. Then a call came in. It was Jane. The gate wouldn't let them out any more than it had let me in. Mary ran to her computer and googled the company name, got to their website, and found a few phone numbers. She also found that the gates "no longer function after 7:00 p.m." (Great.) Mary called Jane while I called the company. "Hello, yes, my family members are trapped behind the gate of your Metairie storage building. Yes, that's right. My family members are trapped behind the gate..." Thank goodness it was a live person who answered the phone! She gave me a code that would override the time-lock, and Mary gave it to Jane. The sweet sound of victory!

But Jane, Nell, Thomas and a helpful truck-driving neighbor almost did a "self-storage" on themselves last night!