Entry tags:
Crisis Planning: Go-Bags and GTFO
Crisis Planning: Go-Bags and GTFO
Summary: “JUST WALK OUT! You can leave!!! […] IF IT SUCKS… HIT DA BRICKS!! real winners quit” --dasharz0ne
Series: Essay (Crisis Planning)
Word Count: 3000
Notes: This one was a request from![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hungryghosts, which was then sponsored by a benevolent anon! (Considering our current financial duress, this is a boon. Thank you, anon!)
So, your home’s gone rancid and it’s time to bolt. What do you do?
The Go-Bag
I am, I daresay, a master at living out of a backpack. At first, I lugged way more luggage, but with practice over time, I’ve come to swear by a good, solid, weatherproof backpack that can be carried on all terrain, in all weather, on all forms of transit without anyone wanting to kill me. People with bad backs may prefer something with wheels, but whatever you choose, weatherproofing is a must. Don’t let Mother Nature ruin your escape! Also, resist the urge to use a backpack with a lot of different compartments; inevitably, something bulky won’t quite fit in any of them. Having one big pocket and one small means you may have to dig, but at least everything will fit.
(If you’re curious, I use a Green Guru Commuter 24L Roll Top Backpack from 2014. It’s gotten pricier over the years, and it’s hot and stains my ass black in summer, but it’s hard-wearing, impervious to snow or rain, balances its loads well, and fits perfectly on any bus, train, or airplane compartment.)
Once you get your weatherproof container, what do you put in it?
Bathroom Stuff:
• Your meds. (You might be able to call your doctor and get extras if you forget, but nothing makes it convenient, even if you have boring meds with zero street value.) If you don’t take meds regularly, shove some aspirin, antacids, allergy pills, and cough drops into a little bottle.
• Necessary medical gear. I always bring my electrostim unit anywhere I’m going more than a few days. Don’t ditch your cane or crutches even if you swear you can scrape by without; you will be filled with regret and remorse.
• Toiletries: comb/brush, deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste, floss and floss-threaders, a bar of soap/shampoo, tweezers, moisturizer, nail clippers… Shampoo can be used as soap, and sometimes vice versa; whatever you end up with, choose a bar over liquid; it’s lighter, smaller, and won’t leak all over your stuff. Do Future You a favor: get extras in advance (dentist samples are great) and shove ‘em in a see-through baggie for easy grab-and-go. I just keep chapstick, moisturizer, and nail-clippers on me all the time because I regret forgetting them that much.
• Menstrual supplies. If you can find a cup that works for you, get one; Livejournal’s menstrual_cups community is long-abandoned but full of good information. Worse comes to worse, you can improvise pads out of extra socks or bandannas, but it sucks.
Sustenance (and accouterments):
• Water bottle that does not leak. (Good luck.)
• Hearty, hardy snack: trail mix, granola bar, pemmican, whatever. I rarely pack more than a meal or two, because food is heavy, messy, and delicate; if you’re sticking around human civilization, wait till you have a place to put your food before loading up.
• Silverware set, including chopsticks. (I found a bamboo set from To-Go Ware and it improved my life.) They’re cheap as dirt at thrift stores, and in a pinch, you can snatch a disposable set from a grocery store or restaurant. Hold them together with a rubber band and wrap them in…
Clothes and Accessories:
• At least one bandanna. Use for napkins, sweat-bands, kerchiefs, neck-warmers, and mops for spills, tears, snot, and blood. Hankies are similarly handy, but bandannas are a larger, more useful size and come in fun prints and colors. We usually use one as a silverware holder and keep another in our back pocket. Disposable Kleenex was invented by the devil to take your money, chap your nose, and leave you miserable and snotty on a train platform. Fuck the devil.
• At least one seasonally-appropriate change of clothes. If you have extra space for only some articles, choose extra socks and underwear. Learn to army-roll. Wear as much of it as feasible; better on your back than in your pack. If you plan to be out for an unknown amount of time, wear your rain boots, because bolting is shitty enough without cold wet feet. Summer is easy for this; winter is hell.
• At least one rubber band or ponytail-holder on your wrist. Trust me.
• Cord. Paracord jewelry is fashionable in some circles; I have a length of the stuff with a Boy Scout compass strung as a necklace, and the cord is indispensable when I need to tie something to something else. The compass helps if you also happen to be a direction-impaired dorkus without a smartphone, and everyone compliments it as a fashion accessory. It makes you look like a Studio Ghibli heroine embarking on an adventure and you need all the positivity you can get.
Electronics/Documents (and their accouterments):
• Pocket electronics and cords, trussed with twist-ties. (Phone, ebook-reader, MP3 player, vibrator…) I have a little drawstring bag that perfectly fits them all so they don’t get lost in the backpack. Tie the cords into tidy loops with the twist-ties so they don’t get tangled, and also because Future You will cry with gratitude for the twist-ties later.
• Bigger electronics, if necessary. I lug my 2006 laptop and 2011 tablet, because those can do my offline work tasks, but I hear people nowadays can do all this with a phone.
• Headphones. Every time I ditch them, I regret it.
• Important file-back-ups. Many use online storage now, but if you want to avoid the “shit I’m in a dead zone” problem, I still swear by an encrypted USB; it’s rescued me a million times. Kris de Decker prefers SD cards in his wallet. If nothing else, it’s a comfort to be able to access your favorite fanfic offline. Also handy should you lose…
• Your important documentation. (Driver’s license, passport, birth certificate, Social Security card, social services/immigration paperwork, etc.) This is way easier to have stocked in advance, and for the ones that don’t need to be originals, keep digital copies on your back-up. These papers are very easy to forget, but if you’re fleeing, you might need food stamps or a PO ox, and that requires paperwork.
• Paper maps and bus schedules of where you’re at or going, if possible. Even when I had a working smartphone, the maps app was the pits. I somehow lucked into a 2013 map of the entire MBTA system and it’s bailed me out often.
• Paper folder for said maps, schedules, important documents, plus a few sheets of scratch paper because you never know when you need to write down a phone number or directions.
• A pencil or pen. I carry a whole pouch but you’re probably not a professional artist who’ll combust without a brush pen. Bring two, though, in case one breaks, and make sure they work before packing them!
• Work stuff, if applicable. You likely know what this is for you; for me, it’s writing spiral, sketchbook, pencil pouch, and laptop.
Miscellaneous:
• Twist-ties. Use them to tie up your electronics cords in the previous section or you will lose them.
• Scissors or Swiss Army knife. So handy. Hook ‘em to your keys or shove ‘em in your pencil pouch.
• One non-electric form of reliable entertainment—a favorite book, sketchpad, yo-yo, etc. Unless you’re going into the woods, you can probably scavenge entertainment along the way at libraries or online.
• Your crisis plan, whatever form it’s in.
• Cash.
• Keys.
How Do I Pack All This?!
Are you lugging a laptop or other broad, flat rectangular object? Put that in the part of your pack that’s against your back so nothing lumpy will poke you. Put your folder in front of that so it won’t get bent. Then just cram that motherfucker. Learning to army-roll your clothes will spare you pain. Put the un-fragile stuff or things you need least on the bottom, fragile things or stuff you’ll need soonest on top. Don’t be intimidated; over time you’ll learn and adapt your packing according to your needs way better than I could.
Some people keep their go-bag fully packed at all times. I don’t, because I only have the one backpack, but it always has my moisturizer, meds, maps, pencil pouch, and often my spiral and sketchbook. My laptop bag is always packed, as is my Ziploc of toiletries, so they’re quick to snatch. My USB, rubber bands, cord, compass, and bandannas are just naturally on me at all times. I can be fully packed in an hour, easy, and it’s a comfort to know that I can just jet with a moment’s notice. Just add a change of clothes, a book, and get the fuck out of there! What’s more, I know through bitter experience that I can get by and do my job like this for months. It’s not ideal, but it works.
Escape!
Throw up the Bat signal. Now is not the time to conceal the diarrheal depths you’re wading through. Call your friends. Leave announcements on your web hangouts (before you leave, if you can get away with it). People can’t help you if they don’t know you need it! If you already have a Circle of Trust set up, that makes it easier for your loved ones to pool their resources and help, even if you yourself aren’t present.
Find a destination, preferably before bolting. Can you crash with someone? Ask! If no one can put you up, do you have or can you get money for a hotel room? Do you have a car you can sleep in? There are shelters, but the ones in my area are so hard to get into that I’ve stopped trying; I have no advice.
Sometimes, you can’t afford to escape permanently. If you can’t find a night/sleep spot, you can still spend your days more safely. If the weather’s good, check out parks or wander and explore the area. If the weather’s bad, you can spend most the day in a public library without harassment or expense. Chris Damitio also recommends shopping malls; worse comes to worse, laundromats are warm and dry and expect people to hang around for hours. If you’re just waiting out the final month or two of a lease, this might be enough.
I have no useful advice on sleeping rough or squatting. Check out Chris Damitio’s Rough Living: An Urban Survival Manual or the zine classic Survival Without Rent instead for more knowledgeable folks.
The Rest Of Your Stuff
If bolting is permanent, you’ll have to either find a place to store the rest of your stuff, or let it go. Storage units are expensive, but a lot of people swear by them; asking local friends about spare garage/attic space is what I’ve done. If you have your own car, moving stuff will be easier; otherwise, you’ll have to rent a vehicle or ask for help. (This is when having a friend with a pick-up truck or a van is wonderful. Make sure to buy/give your helpers dinner as thanks!)
If possible, don’t leave your stuff behind for someone else to deal with. It’s mean… and also makes it easy to jerk you around later. This especially goes for pets! If you can’t take them with you, find someone to take them in, if you can!
If you expect to lose housing regularly, there are ways to (gradually) adapt your possessions to make things less awful:
General
• Avoid things that are heavy, large, fragile, and/or expensive.
• Avoid owning anything that you cannot lift and carry by yourself for a reasonable distance, or take apart into similarly manageable pieces.
• Make as many things replaceable as possible: digitally transcribe and back up paper files, make copies of the most important stuff.
• One pillowcase holds one load of laundry, which equals roughly 1-2 weeks of clothes.
• A good pair of fingerless bike gloves are a boon during a pack-and-go.
• Don’t keep a pet that you can’t easily take with you. Even if you do take it with you, it will severely curtail your options; a lot of homeless people choose the street over giving up their dog, and honestly, I probably would too. So we will never get to have a pet.
Furniture:
• Don’t own it if you can help it. Furniture is heavy and large.
• Solid wood > solid metal > particle board > glass. Wood furniture can be surprisingly light. Metal is heavier, but tough. Particle board is heavy and fragile and awful.
• Bookshelves without backs are way easier to move!
• Ditto desks that are open at the back.
• Ditto furniture that can be easily taken to pieces and put back together. Our drafting table is a steel Cold War monster, held together entirely with common interchangeable bolts. I mailed it in pieces from Ohio to Boston and all it required was a hammer to fix the dents afterward.
• Get a shikibuton, if body and logistics allow. American mattresses are the worst fucking thing on earth to move and dispose of. Shikibuton are smaller, lighter, and fit in the world’s tiniest car trunk. Mine cost about as much as a cheap mattress.
• Trunks are your friend, especially big sturdy beasts you can stash a body in. They can also be used for seats.
• Fuck dressers, fuck drawers. You can’t see what clothes are in them or whether you’re running low. We salvaged a collapsible wire rack that holds all our foldable clothes perfectly, we can easily see what we’re low on, and it effortlessly comes apart in light, easily-moved pieces.
Financial Loose Ends
If you manage to jet at the end of your lease, have no lease, or made an agreement with your landlord to let you go, huzzah! You’re in the clear! But if that is the case, you probably won’t be fleeing with a backpack.
It is inadvisable to break your lease. If you have to, you have to, but if the landlord chases you down, you can be on the hook for a lot of money, and an eviction notice on your record will make finding future housing an even bigger pain. If you have a lawyer friend with knowledge of local housing law, tap them; different places have different rules, and I am not a lawyer. If you can manage to keep enough savings piled up to cover the rest of your rent, it will be a huge relief to know you aren’t screwed for eternity. (Yes, I realize how hard that is.) Read over your lease, and see exactly what you’re liable for. How much notice do you have to give before moving out? Can you find a replacement for yourself?
If you are on good terms with your landlord (a big if for most), you might be able to negotiate with them. Evicting someone or their stuff is an expensive pain. If you are able to give them enough notice, and have a good enough relationship, you might be able to work something out.
If you happen to be someone on SSI, your benefits will get cut if you are homeless, possibly trapping you in a cycle of needing to pay rent unassisted to get your benefits up, but being unable to pay rent without your benefits. However, the welfare people will accept as proof of housing a lease or notice from the person you are paying rent to; you don’t actually have to be living there. If you still have good relations with your fellow roomies, you might be able to find a replacement, sublet them your room, but keep your name on the lease, thereby counting as legally housed. Obviously, this scenario only legally works if the landlord allows it and the remaining roommates are trustworthy.
Social Loose Ends
The above scenario assumes that you’re leaving because of money issues, while your roommates regret losing you. But there’s also the opposite scenario: you’re running because your roommates are axe-murderers and money ain’t worth shit if you’re dead.
If you’re fleeing an abusive situation, it’s all the more important that you not leave your important stuff or pets behind, because they’ll become hostages or license to pester you forever. If you can, cut all contact: block their numbers and emails and disappear. If you can’t afford that, see if you can get a stalwart friend to act as bridge troll. Make the rule that all communications must go through your bridge troll, give your ex-roomies the contact info, and then block all their numbers and emails and chat handles. If your ex-roomies don’t contact your bridge troll, have the troll contact them after a certain amount of time. Your bridge troll’s duty is to only tell you the important stuff that needs to happen. If your ex-roomy is the kind of person to make up flagrant lies, let your bridge troll know so they don’t get caught unawares.
This will cut out a lot of the chaff. Some creeps behave better if they’re being witnessed by others. Even if that’s not the case, mindfuckery that works on you will likely have zero affect on your bridge troll (asides from making them think, “What a creep”). If the ex-roomy blusters and whines and wastes air, you’ll likely never have to know. If something important has to get done, your bridge troll will tell you in non-ex-roomy words, you will do the thing and let the bridge troll know, and then the bridge troll will forward the message on.
It’s an indescribable relief to not have to talk to someone you’re royally sick or afraid of, and a lot of creeps lose steam if they can’t get the pleasure of watching you squirm. Unless you are married or otherwise legally bound to them (and that’s beyond the scope of this essay), you can get the hell out of there.
Oh, and by the way: get thee a fucking PO box or a friend who’ll allow your mail to come to them. Your abusers don’t need your new address. Welfare people may refuse to accept PO box addresses, but there are some more informal places that offer mailboxes (a local laundromat near me, for instance) that can work around that. Mail forwards and PO boxes both require legal proof of address and photo ID (sucks if you’re homeless) so this is way easier to set up in advance, while you still have a lease.
I hope you never need this essay. If you do, I hope it serves you well.
Summary: “JUST WALK OUT! You can leave!!! […] IF IT SUCKS… HIT DA BRICKS!! real winners quit” --dasharz0ne
Series: Essay (Crisis Planning)
Word Count: 3000
Notes: This one was a request from
hungryghosts, which was then sponsored by a benevolent anon! (Considering our current financial duress, this is a boon. Thank you, anon!)So, your home’s gone rancid and it’s time to bolt. What do you do?
The Go-Bag
I am, I daresay, a master at living out of a backpack. At first, I lugged way more luggage, but with practice over time, I’ve come to swear by a good, solid, weatherproof backpack that can be carried on all terrain, in all weather, on all forms of transit without anyone wanting to kill me. People with bad backs may prefer something with wheels, but whatever you choose, weatherproofing is a must. Don’t let Mother Nature ruin your escape! Also, resist the urge to use a backpack with a lot of different compartments; inevitably, something bulky won’t quite fit in any of them. Having one big pocket and one small means you may have to dig, but at least everything will fit.
(If you’re curious, I use a Green Guru Commuter 24L Roll Top Backpack from 2014. It’s gotten pricier over the years, and it’s hot and stains my ass black in summer, but it’s hard-wearing, impervious to snow or rain, balances its loads well, and fits perfectly on any bus, train, or airplane compartment.)
Once you get your weatherproof container, what do you put in it?
Bathroom Stuff:
• Your meds. (You might be able to call your doctor and get extras if you forget, but nothing makes it convenient, even if you have boring meds with zero street value.) If you don’t take meds regularly, shove some aspirin, antacids, allergy pills, and cough drops into a little bottle.
• Necessary medical gear. I always bring my electrostim unit anywhere I’m going more than a few days. Don’t ditch your cane or crutches even if you swear you can scrape by without; you will be filled with regret and remorse.
• Toiletries: comb/brush, deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste, floss and floss-threaders, a bar of soap/shampoo, tweezers, moisturizer, nail clippers… Shampoo can be used as soap, and sometimes vice versa; whatever you end up with, choose a bar over liquid; it’s lighter, smaller, and won’t leak all over your stuff. Do Future You a favor: get extras in advance (dentist samples are great) and shove ‘em in a see-through baggie for easy grab-and-go. I just keep chapstick, moisturizer, and nail-clippers on me all the time because I regret forgetting them that much.
• Menstrual supplies. If you can find a cup that works for you, get one; Livejournal’s menstrual_cups community is long-abandoned but full of good information. Worse comes to worse, you can improvise pads out of extra socks or bandannas, but it sucks.
Sustenance (and accouterments):
• Water bottle that does not leak. (Good luck.)
• Hearty, hardy snack: trail mix, granola bar, pemmican, whatever. I rarely pack more than a meal or two, because food is heavy, messy, and delicate; if you’re sticking around human civilization, wait till you have a place to put your food before loading up.
• Silverware set, including chopsticks. (I found a bamboo set from To-Go Ware and it improved my life.) They’re cheap as dirt at thrift stores, and in a pinch, you can snatch a disposable set from a grocery store or restaurant. Hold them together with a rubber band and wrap them in…
Clothes and Accessories:
• At least one bandanna. Use for napkins, sweat-bands, kerchiefs, neck-warmers, and mops for spills, tears, snot, and blood. Hankies are similarly handy, but bandannas are a larger, more useful size and come in fun prints and colors. We usually use one as a silverware holder and keep another in our back pocket. Disposable Kleenex was invented by the devil to take your money, chap your nose, and leave you miserable and snotty on a train platform. Fuck the devil.
• At least one seasonally-appropriate change of clothes. If you have extra space for only some articles, choose extra socks and underwear. Learn to army-roll. Wear as much of it as feasible; better on your back than in your pack. If you plan to be out for an unknown amount of time, wear your rain boots, because bolting is shitty enough without cold wet feet. Summer is easy for this; winter is hell.
• At least one rubber band or ponytail-holder on your wrist. Trust me.
• Cord. Paracord jewelry is fashionable in some circles; I have a length of the stuff with a Boy Scout compass strung as a necklace, and the cord is indispensable when I need to tie something to something else. The compass helps if you also happen to be a direction-impaired dorkus without a smartphone, and everyone compliments it as a fashion accessory. It makes you look like a Studio Ghibli heroine embarking on an adventure and you need all the positivity you can get.
Electronics/Documents (and their accouterments):
• Pocket electronics and cords, trussed with twist-ties. (Phone, ebook-reader, MP3 player, vibrator…) I have a little drawstring bag that perfectly fits them all so they don’t get lost in the backpack. Tie the cords into tidy loops with the twist-ties so they don’t get tangled, and also because Future You will cry with gratitude for the twist-ties later.
• Bigger electronics, if necessary. I lug my 2006 laptop and 2011 tablet, because those can do my offline work tasks, but I hear people nowadays can do all this with a phone.
• Headphones. Every time I ditch them, I regret it.
• Important file-back-ups. Many use online storage now, but if you want to avoid the “shit I’m in a dead zone” problem, I still swear by an encrypted USB; it’s rescued me a million times. Kris de Decker prefers SD cards in his wallet. If nothing else, it’s a comfort to be able to access your favorite fanfic offline. Also handy should you lose…
• Your important documentation. (Driver’s license, passport, birth certificate, Social Security card, social services/immigration paperwork, etc.) This is way easier to have stocked in advance, and for the ones that don’t need to be originals, keep digital copies on your back-up. These papers are very easy to forget, but if you’re fleeing, you might need food stamps or a PO ox, and that requires paperwork.
• Paper maps and bus schedules of where you’re at or going, if possible. Even when I had a working smartphone, the maps app was the pits. I somehow lucked into a 2013 map of the entire MBTA system and it’s bailed me out often.
• Paper folder for said maps, schedules, important documents, plus a few sheets of scratch paper because you never know when you need to write down a phone number or directions.
• A pencil or pen. I carry a whole pouch but you’re probably not a professional artist who’ll combust without a brush pen. Bring two, though, in case one breaks, and make sure they work before packing them!
• Work stuff, if applicable. You likely know what this is for you; for me, it’s writing spiral, sketchbook, pencil pouch, and laptop.
Miscellaneous:
• Twist-ties. Use them to tie up your electronics cords in the previous section or you will lose them.
• Scissors or Swiss Army knife. So handy. Hook ‘em to your keys or shove ‘em in your pencil pouch.
• One non-electric form of reliable entertainment—a favorite book, sketchpad, yo-yo, etc. Unless you’re going into the woods, you can probably scavenge entertainment along the way at libraries or online.
• Your crisis plan, whatever form it’s in.
• Cash.
• Keys.
How Do I Pack All This?!
Are you lugging a laptop or other broad, flat rectangular object? Put that in the part of your pack that’s against your back so nothing lumpy will poke you. Put your folder in front of that so it won’t get bent. Then just cram that motherfucker. Learning to army-roll your clothes will spare you pain. Put the un-fragile stuff or things you need least on the bottom, fragile things or stuff you’ll need soonest on top. Don’t be intimidated; over time you’ll learn and adapt your packing according to your needs way better than I could.
Some people keep their go-bag fully packed at all times. I don’t, because I only have the one backpack, but it always has my moisturizer, meds, maps, pencil pouch, and often my spiral and sketchbook. My laptop bag is always packed, as is my Ziploc of toiletries, so they’re quick to snatch. My USB, rubber bands, cord, compass, and bandannas are just naturally on me at all times. I can be fully packed in an hour, easy, and it’s a comfort to know that I can just jet with a moment’s notice. Just add a change of clothes, a book, and get the fuck out of there! What’s more, I know through bitter experience that I can get by and do my job like this for months. It’s not ideal, but it works.
Escape!
Throw up the Bat signal. Now is not the time to conceal the diarrheal depths you’re wading through. Call your friends. Leave announcements on your web hangouts (before you leave, if you can get away with it). People can’t help you if they don’t know you need it! If you already have a Circle of Trust set up, that makes it easier for your loved ones to pool their resources and help, even if you yourself aren’t present.
Find a destination, preferably before bolting. Can you crash with someone? Ask! If no one can put you up, do you have or can you get money for a hotel room? Do you have a car you can sleep in? There are shelters, but the ones in my area are so hard to get into that I’ve stopped trying; I have no advice.
Sometimes, you can’t afford to escape permanently. If you can’t find a night/sleep spot, you can still spend your days more safely. If the weather’s good, check out parks or wander and explore the area. If the weather’s bad, you can spend most the day in a public library without harassment or expense. Chris Damitio also recommends shopping malls; worse comes to worse, laundromats are warm and dry and expect people to hang around for hours. If you’re just waiting out the final month or two of a lease, this might be enough.
I have no useful advice on sleeping rough or squatting. Check out Chris Damitio’s Rough Living: An Urban Survival Manual or the zine classic Survival Without Rent instead for more knowledgeable folks.
The Rest Of Your Stuff
If bolting is permanent, you’ll have to either find a place to store the rest of your stuff, or let it go. Storage units are expensive, but a lot of people swear by them; asking local friends about spare garage/attic space is what I’ve done. If you have your own car, moving stuff will be easier; otherwise, you’ll have to rent a vehicle or ask for help. (This is when having a friend with a pick-up truck or a van is wonderful. Make sure to buy/give your helpers dinner as thanks!)
If possible, don’t leave your stuff behind for someone else to deal with. It’s mean… and also makes it easy to jerk you around later. This especially goes for pets! If you can’t take them with you, find someone to take them in, if you can!
If you expect to lose housing regularly, there are ways to (gradually) adapt your possessions to make things less awful:
General
• Avoid things that are heavy, large, fragile, and/or expensive.
• Avoid owning anything that you cannot lift and carry by yourself for a reasonable distance, or take apart into similarly manageable pieces.
• Make as many things replaceable as possible: digitally transcribe and back up paper files, make copies of the most important stuff.
• One pillowcase holds one load of laundry, which equals roughly 1-2 weeks of clothes.
• A good pair of fingerless bike gloves are a boon during a pack-and-go.
• Don’t keep a pet that you can’t easily take with you. Even if you do take it with you, it will severely curtail your options; a lot of homeless people choose the street over giving up their dog, and honestly, I probably would too. So we will never get to have a pet.
Furniture:
• Don’t own it if you can help it. Furniture is heavy and large.
• Solid wood > solid metal > particle board > glass. Wood furniture can be surprisingly light. Metal is heavier, but tough. Particle board is heavy and fragile and awful.
• Bookshelves without backs are way easier to move!
• Ditto desks that are open at the back.
• Ditto furniture that can be easily taken to pieces and put back together. Our drafting table is a steel Cold War monster, held together entirely with common interchangeable bolts. I mailed it in pieces from Ohio to Boston and all it required was a hammer to fix the dents afterward.
• Get a shikibuton, if body and logistics allow. American mattresses are the worst fucking thing on earth to move and dispose of. Shikibuton are smaller, lighter, and fit in the world’s tiniest car trunk. Mine cost about as much as a cheap mattress.
• Trunks are your friend, especially big sturdy beasts you can stash a body in. They can also be used for seats.
• Fuck dressers, fuck drawers. You can’t see what clothes are in them or whether you’re running low. We salvaged a collapsible wire rack that holds all our foldable clothes perfectly, we can easily see what we’re low on, and it effortlessly comes apart in light, easily-moved pieces.
Financial Loose Ends
If you manage to jet at the end of your lease, have no lease, or made an agreement with your landlord to let you go, huzzah! You’re in the clear! But if that is the case, you probably won’t be fleeing with a backpack.
It is inadvisable to break your lease. If you have to, you have to, but if the landlord chases you down, you can be on the hook for a lot of money, and an eviction notice on your record will make finding future housing an even bigger pain. If you have a lawyer friend with knowledge of local housing law, tap them; different places have different rules, and I am not a lawyer. If you can manage to keep enough savings piled up to cover the rest of your rent, it will be a huge relief to know you aren’t screwed for eternity. (Yes, I realize how hard that is.) Read over your lease, and see exactly what you’re liable for. How much notice do you have to give before moving out? Can you find a replacement for yourself?
If you are on good terms with your landlord (a big if for most), you might be able to negotiate with them. Evicting someone or their stuff is an expensive pain. If you are able to give them enough notice, and have a good enough relationship, you might be able to work something out.
If you happen to be someone on SSI, your benefits will get cut if you are homeless, possibly trapping you in a cycle of needing to pay rent unassisted to get your benefits up, but being unable to pay rent without your benefits. However, the welfare people will accept as proof of housing a lease or notice from the person you are paying rent to; you don’t actually have to be living there. If you still have good relations with your fellow roomies, you might be able to find a replacement, sublet them your room, but keep your name on the lease, thereby counting as legally housed. Obviously, this scenario only legally works if the landlord allows it and the remaining roommates are trustworthy.
Social Loose Ends
The above scenario assumes that you’re leaving because of money issues, while your roommates regret losing you. But there’s also the opposite scenario: you’re running because your roommates are axe-murderers and money ain’t worth shit if you’re dead.
If you’re fleeing an abusive situation, it’s all the more important that you not leave your important stuff or pets behind, because they’ll become hostages or license to pester you forever. If you can, cut all contact: block their numbers and emails and disappear. If you can’t afford that, see if you can get a stalwart friend to act as bridge troll. Make the rule that all communications must go through your bridge troll, give your ex-roomies the contact info, and then block all their numbers and emails and chat handles. If your ex-roomies don’t contact your bridge troll, have the troll contact them after a certain amount of time. Your bridge troll’s duty is to only tell you the important stuff that needs to happen. If your ex-roomy is the kind of person to make up flagrant lies, let your bridge troll know so they don’t get caught unawares.
This will cut out a lot of the chaff. Some creeps behave better if they’re being witnessed by others. Even if that’s not the case, mindfuckery that works on you will likely have zero affect on your bridge troll (asides from making them think, “What a creep”). If the ex-roomy blusters and whines and wastes air, you’ll likely never have to know. If something important has to get done, your bridge troll will tell you in non-ex-roomy words, you will do the thing and let the bridge troll know, and then the bridge troll will forward the message on.
It’s an indescribable relief to not have to talk to someone you’re royally sick or afraid of, and a lot of creeps lose steam if they can’t get the pleasure of watching you squirm. Unless you are married or otherwise legally bound to them (and that’s beyond the scope of this essay), you can get the hell out of there.
Oh, and by the way: get thee a fucking PO box or a friend who’ll allow your mail to come to them. Your abusers don’t need your new address. Welfare people may refuse to accept PO box addresses, but there are some more informal places that offer mailboxes (a local laundromat near me, for instance) that can work around that. Mail forwards and PO boxes both require legal proof of address and photo ID (sucks if you’re homeless) so this is way easier to set up in advance, while you still have a lease.
I hope you never need this essay. If you do, I hope it serves you well.
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