No matter how secure you think you are in the world, I promise you this: You are always one wrong turn away from being alley-raped by a guy named Scooby.
Safety is an illusion, is what I'm saying here.
With our garbage firmly ensconced in a pit of broken Chilean dreams and disused booster packs, I thought the threat was over. No more pile of meth-head bait, no more problems, right? Wrong. If I had stopped and thought about it for a second, rather than just masturbating to my own ingenuity, I would have realized that renting a PODS is like taking out a full page ad in the local paper with my address up top, followed by giant bold letters that read: "I don't want my things anymore, could somebody please either take or pee on them?" It's a big metal box that sits in the street and proudly advertizes that you can "RENT THIS POD FOR YOUR NEXT MOVE!" It tells every single passing stranger that you are no longer around, but all of your belongings are, and they are very, very lonely.
"We're so alone! Please, stranger: Won't you hurl us in the street and poop on us?"
The very day I left, somebody walked up to the box containing everything I own and snapped off the "tamper-proof" Masterlocks with a pair of industrial bolt cutters. Luckily, the PODS people had seen this kind of thing before, so they had plenty of time to get a running start at not giving a shit. When I called, they informed me that the insurance I purchased basically just protected me from not purchasing insurance. They then told me that the official policy is not to pick up units without locks, so they're just going to go ahead and leave it there, completely open, in case any other thieves want to come by and pick through the garbage the first thieves left behind.
What could I do? I sucked it up, bribed some family members to drive by and re-lock it for me and rescheduled pickup.
Then, sure enough, more thieves came by that next night and tried to break through the replacement lock to get at those sweet Burglary sloppy-seconds.
... is a thing people with lots of stuff say to people that just lost all of their stuff.
Turns out? Stuff is fucking awesome. Seriously, you guys. Objects are the best.
Without them, my wife and I are now sleeping in an empty room on hardwood floors. For fun, we count the number of slats in the blinds, compare our results, then fight about them until she starts crying and runs into the closet. We bought an air mattress (a hundred bucks if you want a pump to inflate it, which you kind of need, unless you're just using it as a ghost costume for a fetish ball), but our dogs were so freaked out by our abrupt relocation into an empty cave that they popped it the first night. We bought a pad to sleep on the next night, but the dogs slapped paws with the cat and tagged her in so she could piss on it.
So here's my situation after the first big move of my life: I haven't slept in two weeks, the stress has sweated all the joy out of me like condensation on a glass full of misery, and even my animals have turned against me, because they were apparently just in this relationship for the material goods.
I've been robbed, but have no idea what's missing, because all of my things are two states away, and also probably in the shopping cart of a dude named Scary Larry. For the next 10 days, I am literally just going to sit and wait for a delivery, solely to find out how bad I was robbed. It's like I mail-ordered a burglary, but wasn't very excited for it, so I just opted for the free super-saver shipping. At some point in the next week, a big box will be dropped off in front of my house with a major crime waiting to spring out of it like a felonious peanut-snake.
So here's where you learn the big lessons from everything I did wrong, which is ... everything, really. Here's the right way to undertake a large move:
1. Pay the goddamn U-Haul people their blood money.
2. Burn your garbage. Fight anybody that looks at you while you're doing it.
3. Release all of your pets into the wild.
4. Divorce your wife and disown your family.
5. Buy a folding chair, a packet of no-doze and a gun. Camp out in front of your moving van; shoot everybody that looks like they need a shower.
6. Enjoy your new life in your exciting new city! Or probably prison!
You can buy Robert's book, Everything is Going to Kill Everybody: The Terrifyingly Real Ways the World Wants You Dead, or follow him on Twitter and Facebook or you could just give him his fucking toolbox back, you son of a bitch!
Check out more from Brockway in The 10 Most Terrifyingly Inspirational 80s Songs and 5 Movie Martial Artists That Lost a Deathmatch to Dignity.