Wednesday, April 27, 2011

The Requisite Moving Post

Here's why I haven't written yet: moving sucks. We all know it. So why come here and whine about how terrible it was and complain about something that was not only my choice, but the thing I practically begged of Capitol Hill home sellers for months?

Not gonna do it. Or rather, wasn't.

But see, as time ticks by and I ignore Bloglandia for another day without glowingly posting about culinary creations out of my new kitchen or perfectly dressed windows or newly organized closets, I feel increasingly lame. I love this house, and I couldn't be happier that we're here. That I know. But getting here? Awful. I think we know who deserves the blame on this one. 

I'm the brilliant girl who did the following:
  • Thought the lead-up time to the move should be spent doing house renovations instead of packing
  • Kept a long-planned OBX weekend on the calendar even though we didn't have time for it
  • Told parents, in-laws, relatives, and friends that we didn't need help moving
  • Thought hiring movers to do only the "big things" was a good idea
  • Thought "the little things" that would remain were, in fact, little
  • Believed we could do said "little things" with our relatively little vehicle
So yeah.

We worked our butts off in the house for ten days, painting and sanding and stripping and the like, and didn't pack a thing, meaning we were sore and tired before moving even began. The day the movers came, not a box had been packed. I was so unprepared I had them wait before disconnecting the Internet so that I could finish a work project. Once they got going, the movers only broke one piece of furniture, which we were actually pretty cheery about, given how horrific our last experience with movers was. We moved into the house that night with our furniture, and you know... the house seemed so great with just furniture in it, minus our pesky stuff. Have I mentioned we have a lot of stuff?

Friday we packed and moved all day long, fourteen hours straight. T rented a U-Haul intervention-style (thank God), and even with it we missed a concert and any chance at having a normal weekend. We were limping and bleeding. Really. By Saturday, we were existing solely on caffeine and willpower, and broke at different moments. My breakdown moment came in the closet (don't they always?), surrounded by clothes of three different sizes and facing a pair of pants that were giving me a particularly condescending look. That's when I announced that Saturday, April 23 was the worst day of my life. Take that, stupid pants I can't wear anymore. You win.

And then I felt guilty, and looked at the guy putting up with me through all of this, battling an explosion of my old graduate school papers, or shoveling dirt from my planters into plastic bins, or wrangling gift wrap, or some other ridiculousness of my own design.

"Okay, this isn't the worst day of my life because you are with me."



"But it's still a really shitty day."

"I mean really shitty."

We pulled away from our apartment for the last time at 1 in the morning. We had a plan that things would go in their rightful places as they came out of the thankgoodnesswehaditohmygodhewasrightU-Haul, rather than just anywhere. That plan had been thrown out long ago.

Contractor bags filled with clothes still on hangers... thrown. Suitcases of books so heavy they barely rolled... shoved. Random-ass shit that I don't know why in the world I still keep: basement. And so on.

By 3:00 a.m. Sunday, we were reduced to two lost souls on a dark streetcorner, covered in bruises and scrapes and whispering lifting and turning strategies, with an audience of stray neighborhood cats. It started to rain. But finally, we were done.

Three days later, to say that this house is "taking shape" would be vastly exaggerating the homemaking progress going on inside. Instead, this house is beginning to consider a process of thinking about taking shape. The truth is, we need some time to recover. Or at least one day to do nothing but sleep. Or a massage therapist to fix our broken bodies. Or a contractor to fix up everything we want fixed, simply by reading our minds. Those glowing blog posts about kitchens, windows, and closets... you're going to be waiting a while. So you know.

Moral of the story: don't try this at home, kids. Accept help. Know you're not Superwoman. Be okay with that. Pack up your too-small pants first, on a happy day. Or for pete's sake, finally throw them away, why don't you?

And that's all I have to say about that.

The only happy thing to ever come out of Moving Day... big love from me to the awesome person who identifies this brilliance:


  1. oh i feel your pain. sean and i moved ourselves out of our baton rouge house and into storage all alone. me, him and two dollies. at least once a month we bring it up and look at each other and say WE ARE NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN. so glad you are in though!

    and those pants? i have them too. i hate them.

  2. through our last move We just kept telling ourselves - at least we won't have to be doing this again for a LONG time (and the same goes for you). Part of what made it tolerable to us was getting rid of lots of stuff along the way. We're not minimalists by any stretch, but we got rid of a lot of the Might-use-this-someday-so-i'll-just-keep-it-stuff.

    Your house will be there, so take a few days to heal yourselves before attemptting the unpacking. And even though it seemed crazy, getting those improvements done before the move was really smart and your future self will thank you!

  3. Blergh. That is how I feel about moving. I made myself sick doing it last time. I feel everyone should have a mandatory week off work for moving.

  4. Aww, thanks guys. And Samma, is this an appropriate time to mention that T was only able to take THREE HOURS off of work last week? Thank goodness he had Friday off (I, of course, did not... so had to take another damn vacation day), but yeah... it was a sore subject.

  5. Moving is 100% Sucktastic, even if you are Martha-Stewart-Bitch-Style Organized, which I never am. The good news? You OWN it! You HAVE to stay a while and can forget about moving for the foreseeable future!

    Give yourselves a big breather... Picnic amongst the boxes! This is what takeout and cheap wine were invented for! xoxo

  6. There is nothing worse than moving. I hate moving, and I ALWAYS get movers because I have just learned that its worth the money (though I havent had the mover trauma that yall have).

    I got off the hook pretty easily on my last move - when leaving this old house I made the ex pack 80% of my stuff. There may have been some yelling and dramatic statements along the lines of "You ruined this, you ruined everything, the least you can do is pack!"

    Poor M & T! Rest up - tell each other you love each other, and relax. No one will judge you if things don't get put away immediately.

  7. Oh, dear. At least you own this house and will likely stay put for awhile! Looks like we, on the other hand, may be moving again this fall. And we'll get to throw a newborn into the mix!

    Rest up and enjoy your new space.

  8. Oof, moving sucks. And the picture? I can't be sure, but those cutoffs are just *screaming* Reno 911 to me. Am I right?

  9. Megan FTW!!!! That is indeed a screen capture from Reno 911's "Moving Day" episode, in which Lt. Dangle (best name EVER) fabricates a move in order to get Jones to hang out with him on the weekend. Brilliant.

  10. Well, at least the worst seems to be over and now you have a great place to call home!

  11. Maggie - Do I need to get the crew from TLC's Hoarder's over to your place??? :) So sorry that the move was tough and painful. Hey - you won't need to hit the gym (or Jillian?) for a while!

  12. Oh, I feel your pain...even though it's been years since we moved into our house. Funny how you never think moving will be fun, yet it's always SO MUCH WORSE than you anticipated.

    Take time to recuperate, we'll be patient and wait for pictures of your fantastic house!

  13. although i can't speak from experience, i think moving must be like childbirth - you forget the pain just enough so that you are able to convince yourself to do it again. congrats on surviving. let the fun nesting begin!

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