The POD arrived yesterday, and so begins the colossal task of what I have dubbed “The Great Chattel Migration and Repatriation Of 2015.” Stuff will go into the POD and remain there until the house sells. Stuff will then be brought back to the house by the estate sale team, who will sort, price, and stage.
Ladies and gentlemen, bear witness. This is what happens when you accumulate over 12 years worth of shit. I’ve got a lot of baggage, and I don’t mean luggage.
Getting the POD was a task in and of itself. I had to apply for a permit from the city of Seattle, at a cost of $280. The city required a site plan, which I scratched out on a piece of paper showing the curb, the two intersecting streets, and where I planned to place the unit.
Two days before arrival I was required to call the city hotline to remind them that my “project” was starting.
The permit must be posted in a “clerestory window.” A clerestory window? I have not heard that phrase since art history class when I studied the great cathedrals of Europe. A “clerestory window” is apparently “part of an interior wall rising above the adjacent room with windows admitting light.” I taped the damned permit to the window by my front door.
The POD sits at least 18 inches away from the curb, which the delivery driver assured me was the closest he could get. I imagine filling it with vintage furniture and expensive china, only to be awoken in the night by the sound of a passing car slamming into it. Oh well, I guess that’s why I buy homeowner’s and umbrella insurance.
The unit will be here for 80 days at a cost cost of approximately $550. I am therefore spending over $800 just to move some shit around. I will not miss these possessions at all, I tell you.
