Why Moving Sucks

I used to move a lot as a kid. This means I can pack like a fugitive and move a two bedroom condo in a matter of hours. NORMALLY. Not this time, apparently. This has been the move from hell. It didn’t start out that way.

We decided to move across town to a place with a better layout, closer to my day job, quieter neighbourhood, walking distance to Saturday’s farmer’s market, significantly fewer sirens (someone broke into our car when we were moving out). We were so enamoured with the idea of our new life that we forgot about the things that seriously suck about moving.

Packing 

Packing is pretty much the worst. It makes me stabby and sobby. I’m like the Michael Jordan of packing but I bet even MJ is like “ugh not this again” some days. Just because you are good at something doesn’t mean you should have to do it. I’m also a little bit resentful of last minute packing because the “packing committee” got distracted by video games and totally fell down on the job. I’m not saying that happened this time, BUT IF IT HAD, I would have been pretty cranky about it and thrown around words like DIVORCE to people I’m not even married to. Clearly, this is all very theoretical.

Moving Heavy Stuff

It’s little known wisdom that if you are going to move something heavy like a deepfreeze, you should defrost it before you move it. You should also consider emptying it. If you don’t defrost it and you move it anyways, and decide to leave it unplugged for 24 hours, if you didn’t empty it before moving it, you should do so before the food goes bad. Otherwise some cranky writer will find out her butter chicken is ruined and there’s nothing to eat and she’s so hangry she threatens you with divorce again. I’m not saying it happened this time, given this is very theoretical and just coincidentally highly specific.

Changing Addresses

I’m sure I’ve forgotten somebody. I made sure the internet and the hydro moved because I value a working fridge and a strong wifi signal. I also have a very diligent insurance lady so my insurance moved with me without incident. I guess I will soon learn who I didn’t notify. HEY GRANDPA IF YOU ARE READING THIS I MOVED THANKS LOVE YOU BYE.

Unpacking

We have phantom box syndrome. There is a whole box missing. It has bathroom stuff in it. I can’t find anything. Everything is upside down and it’s driving me crazy. Hey, do you have some gum by any chance? Thanks. Yeah, that thing my hair is doing, we call it “beach waves.” It’s super trendy. 

Figuring out the light switches 

Moving into a new place is being Indiana Jones with the light switches, searching for treasure (the switch that will light up the bathroom or above the sink or whatever.) It’s ridiculous. Truthfully, I lived in the last place 2.5 years and still have no idea what the light switches do. I need the clapper or something.

How Long It Takes

More than three days to move minus two bedroom apartment = one unhappy woman. IT SHOULD NOT TAKE MORE DAYS TO MOVE THAN YOU HAVE BEDROOMS. It’s like a pythagorean theorem of moving. That law of math was VIOLATED this move and it was excruciating.

Being on the Verge

Being on the verge sounds aspirational. It’s usually associated with greatness. In this case, it was being on the verge of living somewhere. Straddling two worlds is stressful. Straddling two apartments is annoying. Half of your stuff is here. Half of your stuff is there. The half you need is never where you are. It’s like being on the verge of a sneeze but you can’t find the toothpaste. One night, we realized all the pillows were at the other house and we slept on rolled up towels. I don’t know why the comforter was wet. I don’t know why all the dry comforters were at the other house.

In the end, I’m glad we moved. One day this will be funny. One day I will buy more butter chicken. One day I will find the toothpaste. One day I will finish updating my addresses. Just not today. I’m really tired (and I finally have pillows and a dry blanket.)

(This post originally ran on Sparkly Shoes and Sweat Drops)