Sis Cunningham certainly said and sang it well!

Charlie King composed "SELF-STORAGE" as a sardonic comment on an alternative to being homeless and unfortunately with the mortgage meltdown may surface as a viable option:

Words and music by Charlie King © 1986
Recorded on Feelings of Fire
Flying Fish FF 417

Self-Storage

Did you ever stop to wonder how you ever get by,
When the cookie jar is empty and the pie is in the sky?
When you hear the wolf a-knockin', and your money's running out,
And you're trying to make a chowder from your last mung sprout,
Did you ever stop to wonder where you'd lay your weary head,
When your closet's goin' condo and your ink's running red?
When you're standing in the bread line, out of dough and into debt,
And you're dodgin' bodies dropping through the gapin' safety net?
When the trickle down is fickle, and supply ain't on your side,
Then it's time for you to join me for an early morning ride –
To Bridgeport, Connecticut,
Where destitution and persecution,
Find a home-grown, sure-fire, free-market solution.

I was drivin' down the highway, it was I-95;
I was wonderin' how so many of us manage to survive,
Gettin' older, gettin' colder, out of fashion, out of cash,
Gettin' laid off, never paid off, gettin' sick, and gettin' trashed;
I was steamin' into Bridgeport when a building hove in view,
Just an old abandoned factory but the paint was bright and new,
A long-abandoned factory where you once could earn a buck,
Till the firm ran out of country and the workers out of luck;
Emblazoned on that factory in letters tall as me
Was a sign that hawked what had to be a growing industry,
The solution for the unemployed, the old, the sick, the poor,
Where the private sector lifts its lamp beside the factory door;
And what that sign said,
And what my eyes read,
Was Self-Storage.
I said "Self-Storage"? Uh huh, eight bucks a month.

Now suppose you've given up you'll ever find a decent job;
You're too smart to play the lottery, too virtuous to rob,
You're too rich to be on welfare, too poor to buy a meal,
Here's a neat and simple answer to the misery you feel;
A hundred bucks per annum is a price we all can pay,
Check out for a decade? Why not stow yourself away?
Don't be hangin' on the corner; don't be rapping on the stoop;
Don't be litterin' the lines for unemployment checks and soup;
The rich have themselves frozen if they're terminally ill;
Why not put yourself in storage if you can't afford your bill?
If your sector isn't growing; if you fail to pull your weight;
Why, just back into a closet, shut the light, lock the gate;
Say you voted for a tax cut but it only helped the rich,
Or you tried to be a Yuppie but designer jeans don't fit,
Or you lusted to be better off and couldn't ease the itch,
There's a factory in Bridgeport where you're sure to find your niche;
Four by four, got a lock on the door,
And friends, what's more,
Now they've got a name for it.
Call it: Self-Storage.

At first it seems so strange, locked in dark and tiny places,
In this land of far horizons, new frontiers, open spaces;
But on second thought you'll find that it's as common as can be:
In the nursing home, the flophouse, or the penitentiary;
Why there's folks right now in storage in this homeland of the free,
And if they can learn to live with it, then why not you and me;
It's just a change of attitude; it all comes down to style;
You can live within your limits, love the lock and crack a smile;
A bright image, a new package, Self-Storage is the rage;
We'll be driftin' up in droves to be driven to a cage,
With a Pac-Man pleasure center, nutrition substitutes,
And the Cabbage Patch edition of Trivial Pursuits;
I can't wait till they inaugurate promotional campaigns,
With a slogan aimed at any nagging fear that still remains:
"I'd rather be in Storage, wouldn't you?"
"If you were in Storage, you'd be home now too!"
"Into the closet and out of the street!"
"Home Sweet Storage can't be beat!"
So if you're running out of luck and you don't know what to do,
Your entitlement's been cut and you don't know what to do,
Or your golden goose is plucked and you don't know what to do,
Remember, you got a friend in Bridgeport;
If you can't beg, steal, borrow, or forage,
Join the millions of Americans in safe Self-Storage,
"Please, just lock me away..."

Warm regards,
Landlady's Daughter