1) Moving is expensive, even when your company pays
for it. Literally everything costs money. A lot of which you have to put up
yourself and then get reimbursed for later. To have the moving company pack up
your stuff, extra. Providing boxes to pack said stuff, extra. Sending a “shuttle”
because the semi won’t fit on your street, extra. Crating delicate things such
as washer, dryer, TV’s, you guessed it, extra.
Plus when you pack up your kitchen, you’ll
pretty much be eating out every meal, because even though you left a pot out to
make mac and cheese, you’re tired from packing all day. So tired, you cannot
fathom stirring a pot of noodles for 7-10 minutes or having the mental fortitude
to ration out your remaining butter and milk supply to ensure you can eat for
the remaining days in your home. And washing the pot afterward? That is just an
additional torture that is just not going to happen. So you eat out every day
and even when doing so cheaply, you’re easily spending at least 20 dollars a
day. Moving is expensive.
2) We have too much stuff. I am about two tote
bins away from qualifying to be on Hoarders a bit off a pack rat. I have
every card given to me from age 16 on, some dating back even further. I have a
tote filled entirely with stuffed animals that ended up making the move. Why
did it make the move? Because I did
have two totes of stuffed animals. Pairing it down to one seemed like some sort
of victory. And my reward for getting it down to one tote of stuffed
animals? Not having to go through what feels
like a heartless process of giving away more stuffed animals. Thus, the
cycle of hoarding continues.
I did a pretty good job of throwing things
away, especially for a borderline hoarder. This was motivated but also
nullified by the fact that I am marrying a fellow borderline hoarder. He has his
original Nintendo and all its games and the cases to every CD he’s ever owned.
When we moved in together, I unpacked a box to find a bag full of napkins from Canes.
He packed a plastic bag full of napkins from a fast food restaurant into a box
and moved it.
In my defense, I think my hoarding comes
from the poor college kid mentality A mentality I maintain though having graduated 5 years ago. If the pants still fit and look relatively decent (if you don’t pay
attention to the cuffs of said pants that look like I trapped a rabid raccoon in
them and he had to shred his way through the cuffs of my pants to freedom) who
I am to throw them away? If I do throw them away, I get the same feeling that I
get when the triple-ply toilet paper is on sale at Target. I want to buy it for
a fleeting moment until I realize I am not the Queen of England and do not need
three layers of toilet paper under any circumstances. I simply do not have the
means to throw away money or a perfectly wearable, albeit unprofessional looking,
pair of pants like that. And let’s face it; is there anything worse than buying
a pair of plain black dress slacks? I know you need them but they’re boring to
buy. If I have to spend money on clothes, I would like glitter to be involved somehow.
There is also that overwhelming feeling of
dread that I am throwing something out that I may need at some point; even if
that need is for the sole purpose of a outfitting a Halloween costume. I am so
mad when I have to rebuy (yes, I know this is not a real word) something I
owned before I resigned myself to go on a masochist purge to declutter my life.
In 2012, I had to borrow Dan’s sneakers for my minion costume bc I had recently
thrown out my shoes from my high school serving days at the Pancho Villa when we
moved in together. Trust me, they were the most perfect minion shoes. When I
see photos of our costumes from that year, I am still consumed with regret when
I think of how perfect my shoes that I so callously threw away would have
looked with that costume. I rue the day I threw them away. RUE. THE. DAY.
Feel
free to use these last two paragraphs as my application to be on Hoarders.
3) Moving is humbling. Without the kindness of our
dear friends, truth be told, we would not have gotten packed. We decided to
pack ourselves (see point 1) and had so much to pack (see point 2) the task
seemed truly insurmountable. I give myself credit for having the best of
intentions to pack. I would start the day by not showering, intending to work
up a hearty sweat with all the packing I would get done during the day. I would
then put on bummy clothes aka pants with an elastic waistband, no sense in
dirtying my raccoon shredded good clothes. Then I would carefully sort
and pack one box. Feeling accomplished, I would look up to see I packed 1/16th
of the knickknacks in our guest bedroom, taking 3 hours to do so and now the
place is a mess.
This would be followed by throwing myself on
the floor like a toddler and crying. To soothe my tears, I would put on Enchanted
or Tangled and watch it while eating comfort food. In my case, one of the
ultimate comfort foods are gummy bears. Luckily for me (and unluckily for my
health and nutrition) I had bought 4 bags of Christmas gummy bears in early November
because the lady at World Market said they sell out quickly and I intended to
give them as gifts. Unfortunately, I am saddened and ashamed to report none of
the bears survived the move so no one will be receiving them for Christmas. Note
to Stef: In typing this last sentence, an idea for a book strikes me. The Grinch Who Ate Christmas: The Stef Seger
Story, begin penning draft.
I
digress. After movie/eating time which devoured another 2 hours of time, I
would feel gross and need to shower. Showering and getting dressed took another
hour to hour and a half. By now it was time to figure out dinner, which required going
out (again see point 1), which required putting on real pants. Once the real
pants were on, there was no packing to be done. So effectively, I would pack 1/16th
of one section of one room of our apartment each day. At that rate, we
would still be in Columbus right now. Packing.
In come my wonderful friends, who just came
in and started doing. In a good 2-3 days of work, boxes were procured and packed,
furniture was disassembled, and the chaos of all this was organized into two
corners of our place so I could function without being totally overwhelmed and
driven back into my cocoon of Disney movies and gelatinous red and green bears.
To those of you that helped us packed, came out to eat with us, brought us food
so we wouldn’t starve, or sat with me, in real life or on the phone while I
cried, THANK YOU is not nor will ever be enough. But please know that each and every
time I unpack a box and/or use the any of the things I own in my daily life, I am staunchly aware of that I would have none
of it, or my sanity had it not been for your help.
There are certainly more life lessons I
could carry on about in regards the moving process. Maybe I will turn this into
a series…Part 2: The Actual Move. 1) When driving across country, don’t eat two
cupcakes, a bag of Cheetos, and the last half bag of gummy bears you own in the
course of 7 hours to stay awake on the drive. For by doing this, you will be
sealing your imminent fate. You will puke. Guaranteed. Part 3: Unpacking: The
Final Frontier 1) This is yet to be written as it is not yet complete :/ However,
this is all I can put in to words for now.
We survived the move. We hopefully learned
some life lessons in the process. We certainly learned that we have an
abundance of dear friends, we are two very lucky people, and have a lot for which to be grateful.
