13 Benefits of Living Out of a Storage Unit

Last Updated on September 17, 2025 by Michael

So your landlord raised the rent again.

Third time this year. The ceiling stain that looks like Nicolas Cage having an existential crisis? Still there. Your roommate’s bathtub science experiment has achieved sentience. The people upstairs are either clog dancing or performing ritual sacrifices to the god of inconvenient noise.

You know what?

Fuck it.

Not like that—this is a family website—but spiritually. Emotionally. Financially. Just… fuck it.

1. The Rent Is Basically Free Money

Eighty-nine dollars. Per month. That’s less than your streaming services. Less than your weekly oat milk budget. Less than what Brad from accounting spends on his stupid little wool socks.

Speaking of Brad, he just signed a lease for $3,200 a month. For a “converted” studio, which is landlord speak for “we put a curtain between the bed and the toilet.” He posted about it on LinkedIn. Used the word “adulting.” Brad needs help but that’s not why we’re here.

The security guard who’s theoretically supposed to prevent people from living in storage units? That magnificent specimen hasn’t moved from his Honda Civic since 2019. He might be dead. He might have achieved enlightenment. He might be both. Either way, he’s not stopping anyone from anything, especially not Gerald’s Tuesday night poker games in the freight elevator.

2. Your Neighbors Are Objects (And Gerald)

Regular apartment living means dealing with humans. Humans are terrible. They have opinions. They cook fish in communal microwaves. They think 3 AM is a perfectly reasonable time to learn the drums.

Storage unit neighbors though?

Except Gerald.

Gerald transcends neighbordom. Gerald transcends space and time. This absolute unit of a human being has been living in B-47 since before Netflix killed Blockbuster. He’s got a whole setup—hot plate, mini-fridge, a laptop from 2002 that somehow runs Windows 11. Last week he taught everyone how to make prison wine but “the fancy kind.” Nobody asked what made it fancy. Nobody wanted to know.

He claims he invented cryptocurrency but “let that Satoshi guy take credit” because he “doesn’t do fame.” He might be lying. He might be telling the truth. At this point, Gerald could claim he’s three raccoons in a trenchcoat and everyone would just nod and ask him for his WiFi password.

3. Climate Control: The Only Constant in Your Chaotic Life

Sixty-eight degrees. Forever. Until the heat death of the universe, your storage unit will maintain exactly sixty-eight degrees.

This is it. This is all you get. You will never argue about the thermostat again because there isn’t one. You’ve transcended beyond such mortal concerns. You’re basically Buddhist now but with worse credit.

4. Minimalism Chooses You

Remember when everyone was Marie Kondo-ing their lives? Asking if things sparked joy?

Everything sparks joy when you only own four things. Your sleeping bag? Joy. That spork you stole from Chipotle? Pure joy. The milk crate that functions as chair, table, and existential support system? Overwhelming joy.

You’re not poor. You’re curated.

5. Security Is… Present

Gate code: 1234. Always has been. Always will be.

The cameras work about as well as democracy. The fence has more gaps than your resume. But there’s Big Tony, the night security guard, and his flashlight that may or may not have batteries.

Big Tony doesn’t judge. Big Tony doesn’t ask questions. Big Tony might actually be three different guys sharing one uniform, but that’s none of your business.

6. Zero Utilities, Zero Problems

Your friends are out here paying hundreds for electricity, water, gas, internet, whatever the hell “sewer fee” means.

You? You’ve got that hallway outlet nobody’s asked about since the Obama administration. You’ve got a Planet Fitness membership for all your water-based needs. You’ve got the Panera wifi from across the street (password: bread4ever).

You’re not stealing. You’re participating in the sharing economy. There’s probably a TED talk about this.

7. Commute Game Strong

Four minutes to work. Through a construction site where the workers know you by name (it’s “Storage Unit Guy” but still). Past the methadone clinic where everyone’s surprisingly friendly. Around that sinkhole the city marked with a single traffic cone and a sense of optimism.

8. The HOA Can’t Hurt You Here

No HOA. No rules. No passive-aggressive emails about your “lawn maintenance” or “architectural compliance” or “basic human decency.”

You are ungovernable. You are chaos. You are—

Actually, Gerald might have started some kind of informal council. There was a vote last week about quiet hours. Democracy finds a way, apparently.

9. Your Amazon Addiction Is Dead

Can’t deliver to “Storage Unit A-12, behind the abandoned Quiznos, ask for Gerald if lost.”

Problem solved. Bezos defeated. Capitalism in shambles.

10. Moving Is Absolutely Nothing

Contract dispute? Weird smell developing? Gerald’s wine operation getting too ambitious?

Walk twelve feet to the left. Boom. New home.

No movers. No truck. No lying to your friends about how you’ll “totally help them move next time” knowing full well you’ll fake a medical emergency. Just you, your milk crate, and the audacity to call this living.

11. Complete Social Invisibility

You’re off the grid now, baby. No address means no junk mail, no jury duty, no relatives “dropping by” unannounced.

The government doesn’t know where you are. Your ex can’t find you. The student loan people are sending letters to an address that technically doesn’t exist. You’re not avoiding your problems—you’ve transcended the very concept of having problems.

You’re Schrödinger’s tenant: simultaneously existing and not existing until someone opens the unit and observes you.

12. Premium Story Collection

Everyone else has boring problems. Mortgage rates. Property taxes. Whether to get the granite or marble countertops (it doesn’t matter, Jeremy, you’re still empty inside).

You? You’ve got stories. Like the time Gerald performed CPR on a laptop using only determination and a butter knife. It worked. The laptop runs Cyberpunk now. Nobody understands how.

Or when Silent Pete from A-14 (communicates exclusively through interpretive dance and Post-it notes) got into a feud with Margaret from D-7 (definitely killed her husband but makes phenomenal snickerdoodles) over noise complaints. The irony was lost on Pete.

Or the Great Outlet War of last Tuesday, when Building C tried to claim the hallway plug that Building A had been using since 2016. There were casualties. Well, someone’s phone died. Same thing.

13. The Underground Economy Is Thriving

There’s a whole economy here. Gerald runs the WiFi (password changes daily based on his mood). Margaret sells baked goods (don’t ask about the secret ingredient). Tom from C-3 offers “consulting services” (nobody knows what this means but he has business cards).

Silent Pete is the medic. He was never trained in medicine but he owns a first aid kit and confidence is half of healing, right?

It’s not a commune. It’s not a cult. It’s something far more disturbing: a functional society operating entirely outside the bounds of law, logic, or basic fire safety.

It’s beautiful.

The Part Where Reality Kicks In

Should anyone actually live in a storage unit?

No. Obviously not. It’s illegal in all fifty states, most territories, and definitely in whatever dimension Gerald claims to visit on weekends. You will get diseases that scientists haven’t named yet. You’ll become the subject of a documentary that your family will refuse to watch.

But.

BUT.

Have you seen what they’re charging for a studio apartment? Have you experienced the joy of a landlord who responds to texts? Have you tried to exist in this economy?

Suddenly Gerald’s manifesto about “rejecting the terrestrial lease agreement” starts making sense.

The Official Storage Unit Starter Pack

This is not advice. This is the opposite of advice. This is what your guidance counselor warned you about.

• Industrial battery (acquire through means)
• Gym membership (the kind where they don’t check if you’re alive)
• P.O. Box (maintaining the illusion of personhood)
• Everything REI has ever sold
• Complete moral flexibility
• Tetanus shots (plural, bulk discount available)
• Gerald’s number (ask about the birds first, it’s a whole thing)
• Therapist on retainer
• The ability to sleep through anything (develops naturally after week one)

There’s rock bottom. Then there’s sub-basement. Then there’s whatever this is. But at least it’s only $89 a month.

Gerald says B-48 just opened up. The previous tenant either moved out, moved on, or achieved astral projection. He left behind a hot plate and what’s either a cat or a small bear. First month free if you don’t ask questions.

This is the American Dream now. It lives in a storage unit behind a defunct RadioShack, and it survives on spite and stolen WiFi.

Welcome home.

(Please don’t actually do this.)

(But Gerard’s number is 555-STOR if you’re curious.)

(Don’t be curious.)