I Hate Moving
I had forgotten just how much I hate moving. I mean, I remembered that I hate it, but I had forgotten to what degree. It turns out I loathe it with every fiber of my being. The whole ordeal is stressful, time-consuming, and costly. Plus, I always seem to underestimate just how much stuff we have. We got a 17-foot truck (allegedly suitable for a two- or three-bedroom apartment), packed it almost to the roof, and then took about four carloads, too. The worst part is that if I go to grad school, we’ll be doing this all again next year.
So why did we move at all? Well, a few reasons. I’d never really been happy with how much we were paying for our apartment, even though it was a pretty good deal considering how nice it was. And then there were the cramped bedrooms, small kitchen, and total lack of storage. An upcoming rent increase of $30 a month was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
We started looking for apartments (again) and found something right away. It wasn’t as nice, but it was cheaper and had a lot of other benefits, too. We found someone to take over our contract and moved into the new place in only two weeks. It’s a good thing Brinestone was home and able to do the vast majority of the packing, or else it wouldn’t have happened. It especially wouldn’t have happened without the awesome efforts of Brozy and Bawb and my older brother, Dave-o. The elder’s quorum dropped the ball and didn’t send anyone to help, though we started calling around and got a few people to come and help load the truck. The three of them stayed a lot longer and helped with much of the unloading. Thanks, guys. We owe you big-time.
We’re finally starting to get settled, though the apartment still looks like a bit of a disaster. It is certainly nice to have a large bedroom and plenty of storage space, though. But at the moment I’m still stressed out, still missing the old place (despite its shortcomings), and still trying to tell myself that it was all worth it. Time will tell.