I Hate Moving
Yes, I absolutely abhor the act of moving. Everything about it. It is not fun. I've moved from one rental place to another almost every year for the past ten-ish years. Now that I'm buying a house, my main goal is to park myself in one place for awhile. No more moving for a long, long time. I just have to get through one more move so that I no longer have to move.

Packing is the worst part. Somehow only being in my current apartment for about a year, I've managed to accumulate an excessive amount of crap that I do not need and is not worthy of being moved to my next place of living. I just cleaned everything out when I moved last year. I had eveything trimmed down to just the things I need or use or enjoy regularly. I'd taken LOADS of stuff to Goodwill. So, where did all of this stuff come from? I'm pretty sure it spontaneously regenerates of its own free will, because I do not remember collecting any of it, yet here it is. Oozing out of closets, cabinets, and drawers.

One of the great aspects of my current apartment is the huge walk-in closet. This is also a huge hazard because it invites me to keep throwing junk in the back of it, to get it out of sight and out of mind. This is dangerous. Once it starts collecting crap, it just keeps attracting more and more crap, until I can barely get in there and move around. I do have clothes in there. Somewhere. But it's no wonder I wear the same five outfits over and over. I can't find the rest of my clothes in my cavernous closet.

I began packing over the weekend and decided to start with this monstrous closet. I literally went in there and did not come back out for about four hours. I'm pretty sure I was lost, wandering around with a hard hat and a flashlight. I saw signs warning me of falling objects. I may have disturbed a small nest of bats. I definitely stumbled over a hibernating bear, which I thought was strange since it's summer time. And once I finally reached the end of the closet, I discovered that what I thought was the back wall was actually a large wall of crap preventing me from reaching the actual back wall. There was a whole extra four feet of crap behind the wall of crap. Plus a small family of immigrants living in there. Or maybe I had actually tunneled to Mexico. I just can't be sure.

I led the immigrants, the bear, and the bats out into the daylight, and set them free. Then I went back in to begin the packing. It wasn't pretty.

I discovered that even though everything appears to be 'thrown' into the closet, it has actually formed into a very delicately balanced construction of sorts. Highly unstable. Pulling on one thing tended to cause several other things to fall on my head. Good thing I was wearing the hard hat. I would otherwise have been knocked unconscious, lying for days undiscovered in the depths of my closet.

Once I'd managed to knock pretty much everything off of the shelves and onto the floor, I began sifting through the rubble to determine what gets to be packed, and what gets to be put in the 'giveaway' pile. I soon found that almost everything was deemed 'giveaway'. I was apparently feeling a bit too lazy to actually pack anything. So, I took a deep breath and started over with my sorting. I do need to keep some clothes, after all.

After several hours, I noticed the canary I'd brought in with me to warn me of any lethal gases lurking about in the depths of the cavernous closet was still alive. And pecking my head. I guess I should have put him in a cage. While I took his still being alive as a good sign that I would survive the closet, I found the pecking to be a bit annoying. I cleared a path to the door, and he escaped, leaving me to fend for myself on my pile of rubble. Albeit, a smaller pile. I was making some progress.

Once I had my piles separated, I decided it was time to put the things I will keep into boxes for moving. I rummaged around in another closet (outside, and almost as hazardous as the inside closet) and found a big, beautiful box. It was perfect! Large enough to contain most of the closet junk I will keep, and convenient to keep it all in one box for easy location after moving. I prepared the box to receive the items, and began putting things into the box.

It was great. The piles in the closet decreased as the box began to fill. There was now room to run freely inside the closet! I could even go so far as to run amok! Soon, the box was full and the closet was mostly empty of extraneous crap. Time to tape up the box and move it out of the way, as it was taking up most of the walking space in my bedroom. I would soon be finished packing the closet. Hooray!

I taped the box and decided to move it against the wall on the other side of the room. I got down in my 'box pushing stance' to push the box . . . and hurt myself. It didn't budge. Not an inch. Not a speck. Not at all. Hmmmm. Large box full of closet crap = very, very heavy. Oops.

Okay, so I didn't think the large box through all the way. But really, it wasn't my problem. If I could sort of scootch it out of the way enough for me to get around it without impailing myself on it every time I walk through the room, then I would be in good shape. After all, I am not the one moving it to my new house. The movers will move it, and I could care less how they go about hoisting it out of the room and onto their truck. They are hugely handsome body builders who come equipped with a large mechanical crane, right? I pictured Fabio in a hard hat sitting in a crane outside of my window, maneuvering the crane appendage to heave the hefty box up and out while saying, "I can't believe it's not lighter," in that weird thick accent of his. I smiled. That was funny.

With the silly Fabio picture in mind, I began methodically, and very slowly scootching the box over to the wall. Several hours, and several Power Bars later, it was done. No problem.

I continued with my packing, now moving throughout the apartment. I now have about ten-ish boxes packed, all of them much smaller and lighter than the Giant Closet Box, yet I have much more crap to go.

One day I will be done. Oh yes, one day I will be done.

C.T.