The things they carried

Labor Day lived up to its name for me this year, at least in part. It had become clear my DC apartment wasn’t going to pack and move itself to SF no matter how nicely I asked, so Eric and I spent Saturday maneuvering three years’ worth of accumulated stuff from my fourth floor walkup into a Door to Door storage pod on the street below. It was so full by the time we were done that closing the door was like putting on skinny jeans after eating a burrito – it can be done, but it isn’t comfortable and you have to be ok with stuff bulging out around the edges.

This overstuffed little pod was then whisked away Monday morning and is headed west, due on our Clementina doorstep September 18th, which will also be Day 32 on the air mattress* not that I’m counting.

I paid a little extra for insurance that vastly overestimates the value of my things, which leaves me now in the slightly awkward position of feeling just a little hopeful that the pod somehow rolls off the truck and bursts into flame.

*Not aerobed, should you be so ignorant as to confuse them. I myself once made such a foolish mistake and was corrected with requisite condescension.