J. C. Mogensen

Reality with a Healthy Dose of Humor


Trail of Tears

Posted on November 4, 2011 at 7:05 PM

Moving sucks all manner of suckable things, be they balls, taints or other nether-parts. We moved recently from a smallish, outdated place to a newer, more modern joint and it was fuckin' awful from the first trip to the U-Haul store right down to the last picture hung on the freshly painted walls.

There are a few universal truths when it comes to moving whether you are migrating across the country or moving next door.

1.    You have too much shit.

It doesn't matter if you make a dozen trips to Goodwill and have the mother of all garage sales first, you will still have too much stupid, heavy, why-in-the-name-of-the-Flying-Spaghetti-Monster-do-we-have-this, shit. When you make that first exploratory journey through your closets and under your bed in order to get an idea of how many boxes you need, just go ahead and quadruple that final estimate. Double that number for every kid you have. I figured on four big boxes (3'x3'x3') and three small ones (1.5'x1.5'x1.5'). Now granted, that was just to get started. I knew I'd have to get at least a couple more, but I assumed that the majority of stuff would fit in those and the various plastic storage containers we had lying around. Oh, hell no. A dozen of the big ones later (the small ones are completely worthless) and I was immediately unpacking them at the new place so that I could take them back across town and re-use them right away.

Simplify?! I need ALL of it!!

2.    The new place is goddamn gross.

Our new place received a fresh coat of paint and spankin' new carpet before they handed over the keys. The entire building is only 5 years old so how bad could it be, right? During the final walk-through with the manager I looked in the drawers, inspected behind the toilet and peered into every cabinet. Yup, clean as a whistle. Only not. It wasn't until we were in the middle of the unpacking phase that we found dried up bits of food and cat hair hidden throughout the kitchen. I pulled the stove out and was greeted by what I assume the inside of a back-alley abortion clinic's dumpster must look like. That may be an exaggeration but screw you, I have a visceral reaction to other people's filth.  It doesn't matter if you don't want the first thing you do at the new digs to be decontaminating it, it's gonna be.

Let's de-filth this fucker

3.    You need more help

I grossly misjudged the amount of work involved in our simple relocation. My plan was to pack up the crap we didn't need over the course of two weeks, move what I could on my own on Friday, get a friend to help with the heavy stuff on Saturday, unpack on Sunday and clean up at the old place on Monday. Solid Plan. Also complete fantasy. Luckily, I had help packing up the kitchen on Friday – a job I had planned on spending less than an hour doing. It took her about 4 hours which means it would have taken me at least 8. I had promised the friend that helped with the heavy stuff that we would be done in 3 or 4 hours – again 8. I spent Sunday hauling oddball bullshit in my car because I had to give the truck I borrowed back and Sunday night was spent scrubbing any remnants of us away at the old place so that the carpet could get shampooed first thing Monday morning since the asshole landlord had failed to inform me that we had to be out by noon on the 31st.

Apparently we lived at a hotel for four years

Aside from the actual physical labor involved in moving everything you own from one place to another, there is something deeply unsettling about moving. I think it's because, at least for a brief moment or two, you're homeless. Even if you're moving into the apartment next door, the period of time that it takes to move your bed is exactly how long you will have no place to lay down and relax. That's the kind of thing that messes with a person on a very basic and primal level.

If you're reading this, there is a 100% chance that you will have to move at some point and no matter how much you plan ahead, it'll be a ball-gargling good time. Unless you're a WiFi squatting vagrant with a stolen laptop, in which case enjoy your simple, entanglement-free life you cheater.

Somebody has it all figured out



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