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In the grand scheme of things, moving is about the least serious thing that any of my friends/coworkers have had to deal with. And it's less of a "thing" than the little heart procedure I had done last year.
But, man, does it suck. And it's happening today.
Long story short, my building got bought, they're kicking us out so they can rehab and relet at a higher rent. I found a beautiful place just down the street.
It's just smaller than what I had. I've jettisoned a lot of stuff but spent most of last night wondering, "Will I have enough space? Where will I put the colander?"
Among many saving graces is that I've moved 10 or so times in my life. I make enough money to know that hiring movers -- not asking friends, not trying to do it yourself with random guys you hire -- is the way to go. And I learned to let them pack, unless it's a family heirloom.
So this is all going to go as smoothly as humanly possible. It'll be fine. And by the time most of you have read this, I'll be still chanting, "It'll be fine... It'll be fine... It'll be fine," as the parade of my belongings tries to squeeze into a very nice, but somewhat small apartment.
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Fortunately, my most-recent move, coming up on 5 years ago now, was from 1,000 sq ft (plus a few things in storage) to 4,500 sq ft. And part of the deal was that the people buying my place, had to move all of my stuff too. And it was a LOT of stuff. I'm amazed that I somehow had it all in that little place.
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Another good reason to hire movers, or at least not ask me to help move, is that I'd answer that last question with "Put it on your head!"
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Everywhere I've moved to, there's been something wonderful to enjoy that wasn't in the place I was leaving. A particular view out a window, a place for a nice walk I didn't have before, a better closet, . . .
I assume something about your new apartment appealed to you greatly.
Once the shock of the move is over, I'm betting you'll be feeling great. :) :)
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We celebrate our 43rd anniversary this week. And during those years together (we spent the first two years separated by military assignments) we have lived in only four different homes. The last move was in 1996 and the idea of moving again is scary.
I remember the single days when I could pack all my belongings in my car.
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While in the Navy, I must have moved a gazillion times. Sometimes the moves were when I was stationed at the same place, but circumstances changed, necessitating the move. After neutral observer and I got married, I sold my house and moved in with her. Then I go the job in Aiken, SC, and we moved into one apartment, then another when the first apartment complex decided to go condo.
Our final move was in 1990 (or was it '91?) when we built our house. We have no intention of ever moving again, no matter feeble or infirmed we get. Moving stinks!
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