As you probably already know…we moved. Of course, most of our stuff is trapped in a gargantuan storage unit until we have our own house to put it all in. The last month has been a stressful disarray of OCD-gone-wrong. In order to make moving easirr for you than it was for me, I recommend the following. I got it all wrong the weeks before moving…but on moving day? I nailed it.
The weeks before moving…
- Tell your significant other that moving day is a whole week before it actually is. To do this, you’ll have to be in charge of the movers (HIGHLY RECOMMENDED). That way, when he waits until the last minute, you still have a whole week.
Throw. Everything. Away. No, seriously. Throw it all put, because then you won’t realize the movers have zero room for your crap and end up making 5+ additional trips after the big day.
Hire professionals to pack your shit. I mean, pack your lady things and personal shit, but have someone else individually wrap every piece of glassware, dishware, chatchkis etc, so you don’t feel like your significant other is standing there watching you do all the work and telling you to throw the glassware away.
On moving day…
- Make sure everything you’ll need immediately is in your car. The movers don’t need to deal with that shit and you won’t have to dig through their pile of boxes to find it.
Forget every preconceived notion that you had about the move. Drop all expectations except that your shit will be somewhere else in a few short (or long if you don’t follow these explicit instructions) hours.
Put your significant other in charge of the movers. You no longer have a chair to sit in, and they’re about to take the dresser you’ve been sitting on while Facebooking. You probably dropped and cracked your phone while trying to entertain yourself…you don’t need to watch over them. Because you followed tip number 2.
Go shopping. If you did, in fact, crack your phone, you’ll probably need a new one. And new home means you need some new clothes to put in it…especially if you threw everything away.
Go out to lunch. If your brother’s a bartender, visit him and tell him it’s moving day and you’ve relinquished control. He’ll be horrified…first because you left your boyfriend in charge, then when you tell him you paid for movers. He’ll get over it and tell you to have a cheeseburger.
Head to the new residence just as the movers are finishing up. They’ll be able to unload your car before they roll out.
With these easy steps, you, too can avoid the drama of moving.
Or you could try the Ashley method of moving which is pack like a Tasmanian Devil on crack, bribe all your male relatives with beer and pizza, paint the entire place top to bottom and binge un-pack like a pro and then go all OCD organizing EVERYTHING…..all in about 72 hours. Maybe less. Then hide in the bathtub till you’re a lobster and everything stops hurting.
You terrify me a little bit. And I love you for it. Also, when we buy a house, can you come visit then. I promise to pay you in…um…beer and pizza?
Totally. And it was insane. And I hurt EVERYWHERE afterwards. And yet it felt so good. I think I’m a masochist.
That was hysterical. Reality is very funny.
I try. 🙂
Moving is NEVER painless.
It does. And liquor induces laughter. Just sayin’….
It has yet to fail me.
I dk, I cringe with the thought of dealing with movers. They pull shit like extra changes and are on the same moral level as used car salesmen in Compton. It is a great time to get rid of stuff in a garage sale or something.
You know, I thought that…but it was worth every penny.
You are learning early in life about moving Chrissy, I’m proud of you. Take it from me, at 70 I know the drill. Another good tip. When you do find your own place (and I hope it’s soon) make sure an work that has to be done is done BEFORE you move in. You will save yourself a lot of aggravation. :o) Good Luck.
Thanks! I also know that when we buy a house, it better be a house I can live in for the rest of my life because I am NEVER. MOVING. AGAIN.
I’m getting all twitchy thinking about moving… Ever again… There’s a cemetery close to my house… Maybe I can just die in my house, be buried around the corner, then my haunting commute will be short, no?
Once you’re dead, it doesn’t matter how close to the cemetery you are…you’r eno longer in charge. But if you moved to Chicago, I would be okay with that.
Well, that post was clearly biased. 🙂
Levels of stress do not always equate to the proportions of work done (and we clearly have waaaay too much glassware).
And that’s why this is my blog and not our blog.