Mother Lodes

A semester's end in a college town becomes a busy time for A Hauler's Wife.  The surprising thing to me is that the students are not calling for help--it's the apartment manager calling to "trash out" a place.  In "my day" (am I really saying this?) we packed our well-used furniture in a friend's pick-up truck and moved it a couple of blocks to a new domicile, set it up, rearranged it for the new look and called it good for another semester.  Now, we rarely see anything dated--Well, I take that back.  I do remember a recent apartment filled with Grandma's maple furniture.  The student remained for our arrival and actually apologized for the 'junk' he was leaving behind.  Vintage furniture, junk? Yea right! This is worth a small fortune.  

Today's college apartment is smartly dressed with IKEA furniture, Old World Market dishes and Pier One Import light fixtures and bedspreads.  To my shock, it's all considered disposable in their eyes!  Pantries filled with canned goods; dead or dying marijuana farms (probably a science project I'm sure), exotic shampoos and conditioners and the inevitable carpet cleaner -- all left behind.  Interestingly we don't come across many beer bongs or "water" pipes, so I surmise that some belongings have that old "sentimental value".

By the time we are called, the trash enclosures are so packed with "disposables" that residents can no longer exit the parking structure.  I can always tell by the pitch of the manager's voice just how hectic the situation is--"Hiyahhh, the fire marshal was just here...can you send your guys today? Students are unable to get their cars from the parking structure!" The word "today" is a plea for "right now"!

End of semester apartment trash-outs have been endearingly named "Mother Lodes."   We've all learned from our 4th grade teachers about the California Gold Rush in which "mother lodes" became a very common man's endeavor--akin to today's Mega-bucks lottery!  Quite frankly, I know the old gold diggers exhilaration...As funny as it sounds, I get goose-bumpy excited when a driver calls and divulges “There’s some really great stuff here. You want me to bring the trailer by before we dump it?” Oh, yes ...  It’s like Christmas!  Generally we park our trailers on a vacant nearby lot, but sometimes, I cannot resist--I must have it delivered!!  Again, I bow ever so humbly toward my patient neighbors.  I am certain they have their opinions (I can feel it), but I continue to convince myself that we are such 'nice people'...perhaps they will overlook the intrusion one more time.  By the time it arrives, it doesn't matter -- I am a kid in a toy shop -- I dive in! 

One such load sticks in my mind.  I arranged for the driver to "trash out" the apartment but when he arrived he called:  "Rebecca, I'm not sure about this one.  It looks like people still live here -- the shower has just been used, I can smell toast from breakfast, there are school books on the kitchen table and the TV is still on...What do you think"?  I panicked--what if he was standing in someone's apartment?  What would happen if the students suddenly returned to find a strange man in their home"?  Had I paid my liability insurance?  Panicked, I called the apartment manager to re-confirm the apartment number; she assured me they were gone. Within a few hours he had backed into my driveway and I devoured the contents! 

The following morning, I called the apartment manager. She laughed at my paranoia, only to tell me that the apartment had been rented by two foreign exchange students.  Headed back to China they had little use for the "mother lode" they left behind.  Phew, I thought … I couldn’t imagine asking our crew to re-set-up the apartment they had just torn apart.  Anyway, by the time I heard that piece of news the dresser had already been sanded and ready for a little antiquing, the dishes were donated to the nearby Salvation Army and the textbooks were in my car to be sold back to the school.  Waste not, want not!