My dad wasn’t a sentimental man. He worked with his hands, and his hands were always rough. But when he passed, I found something in his workshop that stopped me in my tracks. It was a small, wooden bird he’d carved. It was crude. One wing was bigger than the other. But he’d made it.

I kept it on my bookshelf. Just a little piece of him.

Then, my cat—a fluffy idiot named Gus—decided it was the perfect toy. He batted it off the shelf and into his water bowl. I found it there, waterlogged, the wood grain swollen and split.

It was just a piece of wood. But I felt a loss so sharp it surprised me. That little, imperfect bird was a direct line to my father, and I’d let it get ruined because of a cat and a carelessly placed water bowl.

That’s when I realized that disaster doesn’t always come with a siren. Sometimes, it’s just a clumsy pet. A spilled glass of water. A leak you didn’t know about.

So, I got my act together. Here’s what I actually did.

Step One: The “Cat-Proof” Test

I walked around my house and looked at my things not as a homeowner, but as a guy with a very clumsy cat. What’s within knocking-over range? What’s sitting on the floor? What’s in a cardboard box that could be chewed or soaked?

My list was simple:

1. The new, not-ruined-yet wooden bird.
2. The hard drive with all our photos.
3. My wife’s wedding ring when she takes it off to do dishes.

These weren’t my most valuable things financially. They were my most valuable things emotionally. They were my “cat-proof” list. What’s yours?

Step Two: The “No-Thinking-Involved” Box

I am lazy. I know this about myself. Any system that requires more than two steps will fail. So, I bought a single, clear plastic bin. I didn’t even get a lid for it. A lid was an extra step.

I put this bin on a low shelf right next to the door from the garage into the house. I have to step around it every single day. It is impossible to ignore.

Inside the bin:

• A thick freezer bag with the passports and the hard drive.
• A small, ceramic dish for my wife’s ring.
• The wooden bird.

That’s it. If I need to leave, I pick up the entire bin. I don’t have to think. I don’t have to remember. The system works because it’s built for my lazy brain.

Step Three: The “Out-of-the-House” Solution

The bin worked for the small, daily stuff. But what about the big, quiet things I couldn’t fit? My grandmother’s quilt. My own childhood stuffed animal. The letters my parents wrote to each other.

My house, I realized, was a minefield of small disasters waiting to happen. The quilt was in a closet under a pipe. The stuffed animal was in the attic, which gets hot enough to fry an egg in the summer.

I was just rearranging the risk. I needed to get this stuff out.

So, I rented a small storage unit. I’ll be honest, I felt a little silly. It felt so formal. But when I moved my grandmother’s quilt into a clean, climate-controlled unit, the relief was immediate and physical. It was no longer my problem to worry about the pipes, the heat, the humidity. The quilt was in a place designed to protect things. My house was not.

It’s my off-site anchor. It holds the pieces of my family’s story that are too big to fit in a bin but too precious to lose. If you’re tired of the low-grade anxiety of wondering if your treasures are safe, getting them into a dedicated space like the ones at 3D Self Storage is the simplest way to make it stop. It was for me.

What You Should Actually Do:

1. Today: Find a box or a bin. Don’t overthink it. A laundry basket will work.
2. Tonight: Put one thing you’d hate to lose to a stupid accident in it. Your own “wooden bird.”
3. This week: Put that container in your path. Where you’ll see it and maybe even trip over it.
4. Soon: Pick one larger item you love. And get it out of its dangerous spot. Move it to a better closet, or take it to a storage unit.

That’s the whole plan. It’s not about preparing for the worst day of your life. It’s about being smarter than your cat on a bad day. Protect your story. It’s the only one you get.