When we moved to the hollers from HelLA way back at the turn of the millennium, we scoured them Internet webs for the cheapest way to move cross-country. Upon reading many stories of moving companies holding items ransom plus the cost of about 10 grand, us dudes firmly put our flip flops down and said: This aggression will not stand…man. So we bought a cargo container formerly known as seaworthy, filled it to the brim with what would be useless stuff 10 years later, hired a crane and a truck driver to haul it. We saved over $5k doing it this way. PLUS, we had a cargo container to store our stuff when we got to where we were going.
Ten years later when moving became reality, we had our cargo container waiting in the field to be filled again, only this time it was to be stored elsewhere until we could find where to move it to. True story, our cargo container was stored in a fracking tank supply yard by the banks of the Ohio River. Oh the irony. Leaving this container with all of my earthly possessions, kept me up some nights. Like what if the Ohio sweeps my formerly seaworthy cargo container away during a flood? But nothing bad happened, and a year later we were getting bids on a company to haul said container BACK cross-country to land permanently (for now) in the PNW.
But I’m getting ahead of myself…you know nothing of the F-word Abatement Act of 2014. While fighting for 5 years to try to save the farm from frackers (another bad f-word), my language skills went the way of an angry drunken sailor. (My father was an angry drunken sailor, so I do have personal experience.) We all know that the one true F-word is a wonderful way to let out steam, be joyful, describe something great or horrendous and make declarations of love and hate – I truly believe my use of the F word in very troubled times, kept my blood pressure much lower than it should have been. In fact, perhaps the use of the word prevented me having to go on any prescription medication at all!? (Here’s an idea for a study: Does using the F word regularly decrease the need of high blood pressure medication, anti-depressants and anxiety meds?) Meanwhile, when picking up rope for the final voyage of the Cargo Container, somewhere near aisle 17 at Lowes in Clarksburg, WV I vowed to my sister from another mister and mother, that I would curb my use of the f-word when I hit the road. Thus the F-Word Abatement Act was born in the year of our Lord Two Thousand Fourteen.
Somewhere along the i5, my soul determined we had to end the constant travel, perhaps due to an insatiable need to nest, lay down roots and the sleepless nights worrying about the precious cargo on the other side of the country. Thus began our exhaustive search for home, which was surrounded by the grander context of the life we found ourselves newly living. (Note: we may have compromised too early, not sure, but we are where we are therefore we have landed here.) Of the upwards of 100 properties we looked at, every single one of them was measured by the cargo container: Can a truck deliver a cargo container here? Where can the cargo container be positioned in the yard? Can a crane come in and safely lift it into place? Is the yard big enough for a container? These questions meant that NO traditional home in a traditional neighborhood was in the equation and anything less than a ½ acre was unacceptable. It also meant, properties I liked were completely out of the question. The damn FCC, or it’s real name as used in heated debates about properties, the F*cking Cargo Container prevented me from getting what I thought I wanted.
The cute old church with fellowship hall was knocked out of the running because why? The FCC could not fit due to the constraints of property.
What about that cute cottage on top of a hill? No access for the FCC
What about that two-story cul-de-sac home? NO. The FCC would never be happy there.
The F-word Abatement Act of 2014 was repealed somewhere between West Virginia and Ohio. The FCC blocks further passage until the cargo container shed and straw bale home is complete. But more than likely, there will be other pressing reasons to keep from the abatement of the F-word in the future.
Stay tuned for the next installments: The FCC arrives an hour and a half late while the crane operator waits at $400 bucks an hour; The FCC decides to be a shed; Permitting of the FCC; F-in’ A the FCC
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