The Year of Moving

The insane thing about moving is how impossibly long the whole process takes, even if you’re renting. First, you have to give 60 days’ notice. Then you have to look for a vacancy, but not too early because everyone else has to give 60 days’ notice too. Then, you look for movers and god help you if you actually find one that is as good as they say they are when they come for the quote.

I know. I’ve moved a number of times in my life, and the only ones that went fairly smoothly were when my family actually drove the truck and unloaded the furniture. Only your family cares if you’re angry when they’re late, or drop a treasured piece. Only your family is happy with a case of beer and a pizza as payment. In my series of moves, I’ve had movers show up more than two hours late, show up with a team that they must have called at the last minute – in a Penske rental and not even their own vehicle!, ask my husband to help carry things, thrown stuff into the back of the truck because their loader hadn’t a clue, etc etc etc. And the majority of these were BBB-approved, or high ranking on Angie’s List. So what are you going to do??

Each time we venture into an agreement, I feel as if I’m selling my soul. No contract sides with the owner, so no matter what they tell you – and salesmen for moving companies might be the slickest of all because they actually sound like “real people – if they’re late or break something or can’t finish or forget the boxes they promises you, it’s not their fault. But that’s the movers. Now you have to pack.

I used to love moving. I’m one of those people who actually thrive on finding new spaces for things, who likes purging before a move. And, like most couples, my husband is completely the opposite. Where I see a pile of clothes and can whittle it down to three items in less than a minute, my husband struggles with the sweater he hasn’t worn in 25 years. It’s a beautiful sweater. Real Irish wool. He’s never worn it. That’s my criteria. It’s real Irish wool. That’s his. Standoff.

So we’re moving again. Again, we face this venture with eyes wide open and yet naively hopeful that this time will be smooth and error-free. Thankfully, this time we have fewer items (I usually win the purging thing), and we also have a secret weapon – the storage room at Westy’s. Yay.