Let’s be real. You’re reading this because you’ve got a guitar leaning in the corner that’s collecting dust, or a trumpet case under the bed, or a whole drum kit your spouse is side-eyeing in the garage. I get it. My name’s Mike, and my dining room is currently a no-fly zone because it houses a piano, two guitar cases, and a cajón. My wife calls it “the music minefield.” We’re moving next month, and I’ve been staring at this stuff for weeks, sweating about how to store it without doing what I did last time.

Last time, I left my favorite Taylor in a soft case in a closet that shared a wall with the bathroom. The humidity from showers warped the neck so bad it looked like a bow. $250 repair. My fault. Completely.

So this is me, talking to you, not as some expert, but as a guy who’s messed up and learned. Let’s figure this out together.

First: Admit Your House is Trying to Wreck Your Gear

We love our homes, but they’re awful for instruments. Think about it:

• Your closet? Stuffy, no air flow, a potential sauna.
• The garage? Where gas cans, lawn mowers, and spiders live. Temperature swings in there are insane.
• The basement? Might as well call it “The Mold Factory.”
• The attic? If you wouldn’t take a nap there, don’t store your Les Paul there.

Instruments need boring, stable, room-temperature, Goldilocks “just-right” air. Most of us don’t have a spare room that fits the bill. Accepting this is step one.

The Pre-Storage Jam Session

Don’t just pack it away. This is crucial. Pick up each instrument and play it for five minutes. Not to perform, just to listen. How does the neck feel? How does the middle C on the keyboard sound? Make a mental note. This is your baseline. When you pull it out in six months, you’ll know immediately if something’s off.

Now, Let’s Get Our Hands Dirty

For Guitars & Basses (My wheelhouse):

• Detune, but don’t unstring. Crank each tuning peg until the string goes completely slack. You should be able to press it down to the fretboard with a pinky. This relieves the crazy amount of tension trying to bend the neck 24/7.
• Wipe it down like you’re detailing a car. Use a clean cotton cloth (an old undershirt works). Get the finger gunk off the strings and fretboard. For the body, a tiny spritz of polish on the cloth, not the guitar. Avoid the strings.
• The Case is Non-Negotiable. Hard case. Period. The one with the fuzzy interior. Before you close it, here’s my pro-tip: take an old sock, fill it with uncooked rice, tie it off. Make two. Toss them in the case (away from the guitar). They’re ghetto humidity buffers. Works shockingly well.
• Store it like a suitcase. On its back, or on its side. Never upright.

For Saxophones, Clarinets, Brass (The “Spit Instruments”):

My buddy Jeff is a sax player. He told me his rule: “Store it cleaner than you ever play it.”

• Swab it until you’re sick of swabbing. Pull-through swab for the body. Tiny swab for the neck. Then, let it sit out on a towel for an hour to air dry completely.
• Mouthpiece ICU. Soak it in lukewarm water with a drop of Dawn. Scrub it with a soft brush. Rinse like your life depends on it.
• A dab of oil. Key oil on the rods. Valve oil in the… valves. Don’t goop it on. A drop.
• Case closed. With the latches. Maybe put a sticky note on it that says “DRY” so you remember.

For Drums:

• You gotta loosen the heads. Seriously. Take your drum key and give each tension rod two full turns looser. The head will look wrinkly. That’s good. It’s relaxing.
• Disassemble everything. Cymbals off stands and into their bags. Stands folded up. Put the wingnuts and washers in a Ziploc bag and tape it to a stand.
• Shells go on their sides, like tires in a garage. If you stack toms, put a blanket or towel between them.

For Amps & Electronics:

• CABLE MANAGEMENT. Coil your cables properly. Don’t just wrap them around your elbow. Look up the “over-under” technique. It saves cables.
• Pull the batteries. From pedals, from keyboards, from tuners. Toss them. Use new ones when you come back.
• Cover amps with a sheet or the dust cover. Input jacks collect dust like you wouldn’t believe.

The “Where” That Doesn’t Give You Nightmares

Okay, here’s my confession. After the Great Taylor Neck Warp of 2018, I got paranoid. Our new place has no good storage space. The garage is a hard no. The basement is… questionable.

I started looking at off-site storage. I was picturing those rusty, depressing places you see on TV. But I visited a few. One place, I won’t name it but let’s just say it’s the one we work with, smelled like clean concrete and quiet. The guy showing me around was a bass player. He got it. He showed me a climate-controlled unit—it was just a small, clean room that felt like a normal, dry bedroom. The air didn’t smell damp or oily. It just smelled like nothing.

That’s what you want. Nothing. No smell, no wild temperature swings, no risk of a basement pipe bursting on your grandmother’s violin.

I rented one. It’s 5×5. I put up cheap wire shelves from the hardware store so nothing touches the floor. My gear lives there now when I’m not using it. My wife is thrilled the dining room is clear. And I sleep better. I can go grab my guitar for a gig or a writing session, and it’s always in the same condition I left it. No surprises. For the cost of a decent pedal every year, it’s a no-brainer for my peace of mind.

The Last-Minute, Coffee-Stained Checklist:

• Take phone pictures. Of every instrument, every angle. For insurance, but also for your own memory.
• Label with painter’s tape and a Sharpie. “Martin D-18 – NECK LOOSE” right on the case.
• Elevate everything. Even in a good unit, use shelves or pallets. Concrete floors can sometimes “sweat.”
• Plan a visit. Every couple months, I swing by my unit just to say hi. I open the guitar case, strum a chord. It’s a nice little ritual.

Look, storing this stuff isn’t about giving up music. It’s the opposite. It’s about respecting the tools so much that you make sure they’re ready for you when inspiration finally strikes again. You’re not locking them away. You’re putting them in a safe, neutral space where they can wait, unchanged, until you need them.

And when you do finally bring them back out, into the light of a new room or a new phase of life, that first chord will ring true. It’ll feel like coming home. And you won’t be out $250 for a repair bill. You’ll just be out of practice… and that’s a better problem to have.