About two years ago when I was moving out of the apartment on Oakridge street, I picked up about 24 milk crates from the coffee shop to pack my books into. The coffee shop owners didn’t mind too much, considering their supplier had neglected to pick up the crates for over six months. Sure, 24 crates was a bit overkill, but I had no clue how many books could be stored in a single crate. Apparently quite a few can be stored in a single milk crate. Thankfully Chris (my roommate at the time) had some books too, along with about 300+ assorted cables and random computer accessories. Needless to say that they were put to good use in that move.
After the move, my bedroom was littered with milk crates. Books, dishes, pots, and other assorted materials I had collected over the years were locked in those little blue crates. Unpacking them seemed a bit daunting at the time, so they laid there for a couple weeks. To make room for a sofa to sleep on, I stacked them as high as I could and shoved them against the walls. I could get about nine crates stacked before it started to teeter, so I dropped it down to about six and stretched it out. It was tempting to make milk crate furniture during this period. Eventually I purchased a bed and a book case, so I had places to put my books and trinkets. The milk crates were placed into the basement for storage during the year.
The last leg of the milk crates journey began during the most recent move. While Lindsey was busy packing her house away, I ran off to my house for a couple hours of packing. It is surprising how much of my life fit into those milk crates. I remember having to use large boxes to move with a lot of milk crates, then more and more milk crates with less boxes. This last move was almost entirely milk crate…for me at least. I had a surplus of crates which I let Lindsey use for her house. That came in handy considering the amount of stuff she had stuffed into little spots.
We made it to the new apartment and had milk crates littered about the living room. It stayed like this for a while until we got them outside. I knew we didn’t have anywhere inside to store them, so they ended up on the front porch. It looked a little trashy but a little trendy too. Without a picture of it, the description may be hard to follow. We used the milk crates as chairs when stacked two at a time. They were used for recycling, left in the large dumpster once we were done with them. The supply was dwindling quickly.
People would ring the doorbell asking for a milk crate. The most that were taken in any quantity were four in a single day. One lady thought they were cool for decorations and her roommate soon copied her. I didn’t mind as long as the milk crates were off the porch. Finally, only a couple of nights ago, a Metro bus driver rang the doorbell. Lindsey answered the door since I was washing the dishes. I heard the man at the door offer money for the milk crates. $20 for all of them.
To take a step back in the story, I have told Lindsey in the past to give them away. If anyone wanted to take the milk crates, just give them and smile. When I heard that someone was going to offer that kind of money for those crates, something clicked in my head. I knew Lindsey was going to give the crates away for free.
Going back to the man at the door, I heard the money offer. He was a fast talker, so Lindsey wasn’t able to get a word in immediately. Yellow latex gloves were ripped from my hands like two large rubber bands. I leaped across the barriers in the living room in record time and threw that door open. The man and Lindsey looked up at me. I told him $20 was fine for those crates and offered to pass them over.
What did we do with that money?
Lindsey and I bought breakfast at the Sunroom Cafe on State Street the next morning. That’s another story.
