Moving Madness

I disappeared for a month.

Not really. We just moved. I always forget how hard moving is. Well, no, I don't really forget. I'm just convinced that I will do it better THIS time. I'll pack more stuff ahead, clean as I go, and it'll all be nice and smooth. So smooth, in fact, that as stuff is moved into the new house, I'll be standing there ready to direct it all to its new spot so that when the movers depart, the whole house will be totally organized.

I honestly believe this. Every time.

What actually happens, of course, is what happened this time. I did pack a lot ahead, I did get rid of a lot of stuff (Goodwill, trash) but for some reason there ended up still being way too much to do the last day. The new owners of our old house were supposed to take possession at 5:00 p.m. the day we moved our furniture. I finally got out of there at 6:15, leaving behind a plastic sandbox and a picture up high on the stairwell that I couldn't reach--I just couldn't move one more thing, so the sandbox stayed behind and I hoped they wouldn't call us to come get it the next week.

I meant to sweep the garage right before I left, but my husband took the broom with his last load so I left behind a garage full of cat hair. Sorry, folks. I just couldn't do any more.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, or anyway our new house, I wasn't there as planned to supervise the unloading (we rented a U-Haul and several people helped my husband and son move stuff) because I was still cleaning and grabbing stuff out of the old house. So, there was stuff everywhere. We couldn't walk through the living room for days because of the furniture maze.

I guess the people who bought our house had a Moving Day From Hell too. They said they'd be there waiting with their truck at 5 p.m. to start moving in as soon as possible, and when I left over an hour later they still weren't there (thank goodness).

I know our moving day was pretty much at the limits of my endurance because of how I told my husband to move the birds. We were supposed to be out of the house in half an hour, I was still hauling stuff out and cramming it into the van, still cleaning, and I told my husband to just put the birdcages in the U-Haul WITH THE BIRDS STILL IN THEM. That's a terrible thing to do, just terrible. I feel guilty. Birds should be moved in carriers, padded with towels they can perch on. Moving a bird in the cage risks the bird falling off a perch and getting hurt, or getting hurt by a swinging toy. And the inside of the van was dark once the door was shut.

It was only a twenty-minute drive, and it was not hot outside--I never would have done it if it was hot. But it was still not something I have ever done before or ever thought I would do. It was just part of moving day madness. All my carriers were full of cats. There wasn't time to make multiple trips and bring back empty carriers. I was desperate. The birds all came through it fine, by the way.

The guy whose house we moved into looked pretty miserable on his moving day too. I told him he could have an extra morning to get his stuff out, and he was very grateful--said he was just exhausted. And he's a single middle-aged guy without, honestly, all that much stuff. Everyone said it: "Oh, there's not much here, it won't take long to move." The realtors said it. We said it. He said it. And he hired movers and just moved a few blocks away, and he still looked like he'd been run over by a dump truck, and he was still finding forgotten stuff in corners after the movers left. It's universal. Actually, we still have his garden hose, several of his shirts that were on a shelf in the closet, and some outdoor stuff that his carpenter was supposed to come pick up and hasn't. He also didn't have any cold food or hot water in his new house, because once he moved in, he found out that the old people didn't leave the refrigerator after all, and the water heater didn't work.

I can't quite figure it out. Do Americans just have WAY too much stuff? Should managing our Stuff really be quite this hard? It's not just moving day. For months afterward, we'll be hanging pictures and curtain rods and toilet paper holders, unpacking boxes, figuring out where the cell phones should live, fixing things and arranging things and neglecting the basics of everyday child care to deal with stuff ("No, I can't take you to the park, I have to hang these curtains because everyone on the street can see in and we moved in three weeks ago and it's driving me nuts").

When my husband and I got married, we had this idealistic notion that everything we owned should be able to fit in the back of a pickup truck. I don't know what happened. There are seven of us in the house now (Oldest Child moved into the dorm recently and missed the big move, lucky for her) and it wouldn't all even fit into seven pickup loads.

And one of the pre-move things we did was to rent a storage unit and move everything we don't use regularly into it--Christmas ornaments, out of season clothes, stuff like that. The unit is full. And I don't even notice that it helped (although I'm sure it did, we probably wouldn't have made it out until the next day otherwise).

Someday I want to fit everything I own in a travel trailer and see the country. Three pairs of jeans, a few shirts, a toothbrush, and a laptop. That's it. I just have to wait until the kids all grow up and the animals move on to Doggie and Kitty Heaven. Shouldn't take more than, let's see, about fourteen years.