Storage

If you live in Japan you probably need storage space. The house and apartments are small, for economic as well as cultural reasons. Japanese people seem to be efficient users of space, so they don't usually rent at public storage. Good for them.



We are efficiently using our limited space, but there's my beloved bike. No room at the inn. So I keep it at my mother in law's house. She has lot's of room because the back yard used to be a farm area.



At the rear of the house, in geographical order, there is an outhouse (last used in 1967), a shed for gardening equipment, barn filled with who know's what, the old house, the work shop (last used in December 2000 according to the calendar inside), and the small rear storage shed.



Bikes are kept in the small rear storage shed as the other buildings are innundated with spiders, falling apart, damp and moldy from leaks in the roof, or inhabited by my brother in law, in the case of the old house.



Imagine my balding head as a pin ball. That would make the work shop and the attached small rear storage shed a pin ball machine filled with rusty bumpers and junk with which I can bounce off of. How do you think I do it? What makes me so bad? It's not some strange distractions. There aren't any buzzers or bells. Always bump in the same place; could I use my sense of smell? Like a crazy bald headed pin ball, klutzy without fail. Living in a land of midgets, I quit, what the hell.



To date, I have repeatedly smacked my head on the rusted out light standards hanging approximatedly 4.5 feet from the floor (were Japanese people ever that short?), knocked over a half dozen empty plastic gasoline cans, tripped on the rake, which then fell and hit me in the face while knocking over 3 more plastic gasoline cans, tripped over some leftover plastic sheeting, and smacked my forehead on a door jamb. This is just within the first two weeks of using the storage area. Since then, I have tripped over the metal sheet on the floor, and covered myself with rust after dislodging another light standard when attempting to retrieve an air pump that was stored behind an old rice field plow.

Welcome to rural Japan. Please enjoy the storage while feeling like an oversized klutz.