Boxes upon boxes are scattered everywhere. Some sealed and labeled neatly, but most are open and half-full with their contents spilling out.
How is it possible for one person to have this much stuff?
There’s a ton of expired food in the back of your fridge. Food gets thrown out, objects you never used get tossed or pawned off onto someone else. You Spackle holes in walls, bring out those cleaning supplies you never really used and clean your apartment better than you have ever cleaned it before. You finally find that shot glass after months of it being lost.
How is it possible for one person to have this much stuff?
Moving is a hell in its own category. One lease has ended, and another is beginning—and you’re moving. Moving consists of several steps, each equally frustrating. First, you pack up all your belongings—which, after a few days or hours you probably start referring to as your s–t. You find boxes at Costco or from other friends who have moved. You fill up the boxes. You should probably label them.
Then comes the actual day of moving. Loading and unloading boxes and furniture. Of course, the sweltering July heat makes moving furniture and boxes all the more horrible. Hopefully, you have friends to help you—preferably strong boys who can do all the work while you just complain.
After completing all that grunt work at your previous place, lifting boxes or just watching boxes being lifted, chances are the new apartment has its own array of mishaps. Mysterious carpet stains, nail holes in the wall, missing blinds, squeaky floorboards and strangely-placed outlets.
Again, you’re stuck Spackling holes, ignoring the carpet stains, taping up blinds.
Why? Who decided moving was a good idea? Why does humankind feel the need to pack up its belongings and caravan to untraveled places? Is it ever worth it? The pilgrims weren’t happy, and neither am I.
There are several reasons why we think it’s a good idea to change addresses at the end of every summer: cheaper rent, better location, finally getting your own room, getting away from crazy roommates, the desire to live with friends, strangers or by yourself. But every reason and every new place brings on a new slew of problems, beginning with the blinds that never stay put.
Once the dreaded day of hauling your boxes and furniture is over, then you have to deal with unpacking. Once again, you’re reminded of the question pounding at your temple: How is it possible for one person to have this much stuff?
Followed by, what kitchen cupboard should I claim? How discreetly can I lay claim on the bathroom sink I want? How long can I leave my boxes unpacked before it drives me crazy?
There’s a reason there’s a Seinfeld episode about moving. Seinfeld episodes are constructed to remind us of life’s greatest grievances and laugh at them. It’s easier to laugh at things on Seinfeld, though. There’s no laughing with 90 degree weather and cardboard boxes. There’s no laughing with strange smells and dirty kitchen appliances. There’s no laughing when you move.
Eventually, once you feel like you’ve sweated more than humanly possible and you’ve thrown out all the boxes and Febreezed everything you own, you’re all unpacked. You tack up your favorite posters and your new apartment is starting to feel like home. Hang in there, Aztecs. The worst is almost over.
