I Like to Move It, Move It

Every time we move I swear up and down that we are never doing this again. If we choose to stay in Charlotte permanently our next (and last) move will be into a real, live single-family house. No more apartment bullshit for this lady. Honestly, I am just tired of being a nomad. In our eight years together the husband and I have moved at least ten times. That's just insane. Not only have we hauled our stuff in and out of two different dorms and six apartments (including our current one), there were also a few summers when we were in between apartments and we each temporarily moved back in with our parents. Oof.

The idea of moving is almost always fun and exciting. A new chapter, a new adventure... There's so much potential, and so much to look forward to! In reality, moving is just a frustrating and exhausting time where the husband and I are at each other's throats.

Ah, the stories I could tell you about our moves. Throughout the years, we've learned one thing: Just embrace the fact that something insanely ridiculous is most definitely going to happen to you and you will be okay.


Because sometimes moving means taking a four hour car ride in a torrential downpour and opening the doors of your U-Haul trailer to find that it is not waterproof. Sometimes it means trying to return a rental van to find that your own car has been locked behind gates and there is not one employee in the entire borough of Queens who will come unlock it for you. Sometimes it means driving through the streets of Westchester with a couch and two of your best friends hanging out the back of your Jeep.

(Yes, this is real. It's also the smaller of two couches that we moved. Oh and for the love of God and all that is holy, do not try this at home. It's super dangerous and probably not legal.)

Sometimes it means just giving up and paying someone else thousands of dollars to do it for you. So that's exactly what we did. We scoped out a few companies and went with the one that had the best reviews and we felt most comfortable with. We packed everything up, the movers carried everything up and down the stairs from our old place to our new place while we sat back, relaxed and sipped Mai Tais on the beach.

Wait, no. Sorry. That's not what happened at all. What happened was we couldn't figure out what should go with the movers versus what we should bring down ourselves so we ended up with way too much stuff leftover that wouldn't fit in the car. After two incredibly cramped days of driving with a cat in the back seat and a snake by my feet, we arrived at our empty apartment with nothing other than an air mattress, some folding chairs, a suitcase of clothes/sheets/towels, and a box of cleaning supplies because I am an obsessive compulsive germaphobe.

And did you know that if you are making a long distance move and don't have enough stuff to fill an entire truck, the moving company will make other stops along the way? It took about a week for the truck to make its way to our apartment. And it sucked. I don't really consider myself a materialistic person, but living in a completely empty apartment for an extended period of time is a really strange feeling and not one that I'd particularly like to relive.

Thankfully, everything arrived safely and once our boxes arrived I started tearing into them like a madwoman. And by that, I mean I carefully unpacked one room at a time using a slightly anal packing/unpacking method that I will happily share with all of you whether you like it or not. Seriously, this is some riveting stuff right here. Don't miss it.