I’ve spent most of the last few days moving from my apartment into a new two-story townhome. My big takeaways: moving sucks, stairs suck, rain sucks and, of course, moving stuff up a flight of stairs in the rain sucks.
Why, oh why have I been cursed with both a nomadic spirit and a desire to collect crap?
Growing up, my family moved around quite a bit. I was born in Port Author, moved to the suburbs outside of Houston (where my family lived in nearly five different homes in six years), moved to McAllen (where we thankfully only lived in a single home for the eight years we lived there), and then it was off to college where I jumped from dorm room to dorm room to apartment to apartment to apartment to apartment to apartment. Since moving back to Houston in 2008, I’ve lived in four different apartments. I do consider myself somewhat of an expert in moving by now but it doesn’t mean I enjoy it.
I’ll admit - there is something a little fun in having a clean slate when you move into a new place. Fresh walls, new layouts, a chance to rethink how you’ve been living your life and using your space. That fun, though, is offset by the fact that you have to lug your stuff across town to enjoy that clean slate. I’ve used movers in the past - they’re expensive - and I’ve tricked family and friends into helping me move - they’re grumpy - but the most reliable way to get your belongings from Point A to Point B is to just do it yourself.
Last week, my fiance and I had a plan in place - we were going to rent a U-Haul on Saturday and move all the big furniture from my apartment into our new home using the help of a couple of friends who had begrudgingly volunteered their muscles. On Wednesday, though, one of those friends suggested I should take a look at the weekend forecast. As Bob Dylan sang, a hard rain was a-gonna fall. So, in a panic, my fiance and I quickly adjusted our U-Haul rental to the next day. The forecast wasn’t calling for any rain until 9 PM on Thursday and we figured we could move everything into the U-Haul ourselves. I’d hire a two-man moving crew to help us carry the heavy stuff upstairs once we got to our new place. Well, you know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men…
As soon as we picked up the U-Haul from the rental outlet, the skies darkened and then, an hour later, the rain came. We did manage to get everything into the U-Haul by ourselves - well, nearly everything. Six bookcases, one desk, two couches, a mattress, and a boxspring all fit snuggly into the fifteen-foot truck we rented. The rest of my junk would have to wait for another day. Ironically, it wasn’t the couches or the desk - the heaviest items I own - that caused any real trouble. The mattress - a lumpy, formless mess of foam and sweat - was what nearly broke us. Just trying to drag that sorry pile of fluff from my apartment into the waiting U-Haul downstairs took over half an hour.
We’ve since moved the majority of our stuff into the new place and it’s really starting to feel - ever so slightly - like a home. I feel good about the prospects for the place we’re building together. It’s a mish-mash of second-hand furniture, IKEA bookshelves and one lumpy mattress - but it’s also our first home together.
I can’t wait to find out what memories we’re going to share here. I just hope they don’t involve moving boxes for at least a few more years.
Buy a new mattress and splurge on it you'll never regret it (if you buy the right one!)