In college, I moved every year. Sometimes more than once. Come spring term, I’d cram all my junk into a few boxes, toss them into the back of someone’s truck and relocate, either to be closer to campus, or to find a better roommate situation (for a while, I had one of those Look at me! I’m amazing! Wait, why are you paying attention to HER when I’M in the room? kind of roommates. She made the scab picking finger licker of the previous semester seem suddenly dreamy by comparison). When I lived in Boston I moved a lot, too. It was the never-ending search for cheaper rent and more space that ended, naturally, in a 280-square-foot, sixteen-hundred-dollar-a-month apartment in New York City. Because that is what we call LOGICAL.
What’s unfathomable to me now is, I didn’t even mind it back then. I actually liked moving. And now, with the movers coming Saturday and my living room a dizzying mess of cardboard and assorted WTF Did I Buy This items, I kind of want to swallow my own tongue.
On Saturday, my mom and I spent the better part of the day cleaning, boxing, and priming walls. Mom did all the bending work (she does not eff around, people. My oven is so clean you could set it to low and keep your baby warm in there. Not that I’m encouraging you to bake your baby – it’s just that hygienic) and I inched my way through the apartment with my hand attached to a paint roller. Now, there are blisters. And parts of my body that do not work. I recognize that this is just what comes with getting old(er), but I swear, if today is the day they come around asking for volunteers to be in a Magnum P.I./MacGyver sandwich and I’m not able to raise my hand, I am going to be SO bent out of shape.
The part of this move I do like is the part of moving I have always liked. All the newness. New spaces to decorate, new closets to over stuff. I’ve also really enjoyed setting up my soon-to-graduate sister with all of my gently used extras. For instance, between the two of us, the Dork Lord and I have upwards of a DOZEN sets of white sheets. And as we’re not running a brothel or making any living room forts (yet. Though, frankly, is there any other reason to have children other than living room forts and lying about Santa Claus?), I figured, why not share the wealth. And what do you know, the whole giving thing is actually really affirming. You know, as in, it makes me feel like my massive credit card debt wasn’t accumulated in vain.
Okay, when I saw your facebook status I was worried that you might be moving away from the boy. But, it seems that you’re both moving to another place. Yay! So why — better deal, closer to a job or just new and shiny?
Did the exact same thing this weekend – with my Mom – moving in with my boy! And I love your last line! I kept telling myself that all the items going to charity were helping people and trying not to think about how if I’d just not bought them in the first place my car would be paid off!
Ugh. Moving. I used to move at least once a year from age 17 on. Ever since my last move out of a third story walk-up with very narrow stairs and my gigantic book collection, I’ve sworn off moving unless I buy a house. Period. (I guess I could be persuaded if someone cute offered to carry all the boxes….)
Have fun with the Dork Lord.
Totally with you on sheet forts in the living room, but lying about Santa Claus…”whatchutalkin’bout, Willis?” My 6yo & I are firm believers. Think my 18 & 19yo’s may have started to doubt tho.
Otherwise, sorry-moving is a hassle. May stay in my house until kids have to sort thru school mementos in the attic & basement. For the newness factor, I’ll stick with painting & redecorating what I’ve already got.
Oy, I sympathize on the roommate issue. Now a sophomore in college, I have experienced an otherwise sweet and charming alcoholic and a probably depressed but quiet sleeper. There’s no middle ground. It sounds like you’re about to move in with the best roommate of all, though, so congratulations!
I love moving too!
It’s probably the nesting thing….working out where to put all the bits and pieces in their new spots around the place. Love it!
Back in the 90′s I had 11 abodes…some of them for just six months…some for a couple of years. It drove my pets a bit crazy but I figured they’ll adapt and adjust, just like I had to. Packing up can be a bit of a hassle, especially when you refuse to discard stuff. But the joys of setting up house… bliss
Oh wow, I LMFAO’d twice while reading this. Twice! First at “Not that I’m encouraging you to bake your baby” and second “Magnum P.I./MacGyver sandwich”
Moving, boo! I have to move this summer and you’re making me think I’ll start sorting and dumping *this* weekend. Because that’s about how much lead time I’ll need.
Thanks again. Your humor brightens up my day here at the academic cubical farm.
I trust its a measure of the maturity of the Dork Lord that he doesn’t mind the reference to you and a Magnum PI/MacGiver sandwich. And you are loyal. Magnum PI seems like a leitmotif in your blog. But wouldn’t Magnum PI and MacGiver get into a male competitive fit over who should rescue you, or you should defuse a nuclear bomb with a Swiss army knife. It could get ugly.
All the best in your move, and life in general.
Nice Post…I like it
Kevin
I can totally sympathize with the moving. I just moved on the 4th. I don’t think I will ever be unpacked. I donated 7 bags to the goodwill truck at the fire station and I still don’t have room for everything. (To be fair the new place is much smaller). I used to share your affinity for moving. Now? My next move might very well be into the nursing home.
BTW. MagnumPI/MacGyver? Just made my day.