What was it like -- moving in?
I found a nice apartment, but I wanted to be sure the neighborhood was right. I don’t know if I knocked at her door, or if she was on the porch. She told me her husband was a union organizer. Perfect! I wanted to work for a union.
We rented a truck, and loaded up in the morning, drove all day, got to our new place in the late afternoon. This time we had empty the truck, and carry everything up to the second floor apartment. It was just two of us, me and my girlfriend.
We were maybe halfway done, when my arms started cramping up. It was a hot July day, and I hadn’t been drinking much. We had gotten to the most heavy things. There was no way we were going to be able to finish the job. Out of desperation, I asked the neighbor across the street for help, simply because I knew he had gone to the school we were moving from. He agreed, and saved the day. That’s not something you can ever forget.
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Once my school got the day off for Yom Kippur (sp?) and so my family decided to move into our new duplex that day. We ran into our new neighbors and offered them doughnuts. As it turns out they were fasting that day and we were a tad embarassed.
No idea.. I’m constantly moving out.
The moving experience that stands out for me is when I relocated from sunny Southern California to here in The Cornfield. From the moment I saw the house my ex picked (without me) that he kept telling me was absolutely perfect but had exactly nothing that I asked for – and many things I specifically requested he avoid – and for at least a year and a half from that day, I was completely and totally miserable. I cried every day for at least the first three months – in the privacy of my own room of course – I couldn’t let the boys see me.
Now I am happy to report my attitude has changed. I know now why I came here and I wouldn’t change any of it (except maybe the house). I love being so close to my sister Gimmedat and I don’t know how we made it so many years so far apart.
The first place my ex-husband and I bought for ourselves was a newly built townhouse, in the middle of what used to be an empty field. It was February, so there was no yard yet…and it had rained, sleeted and snowed all day by the time we got there. He and I, my best friend and her 12 year old brother moved everything in ourselves, taking until well after midnight to get it all done. We tracked so much mud all over our new house! It was the most miserable move-in I’ve ever had.
That is a big step in live.I thing it is good to move in someone with.Set the place and build it up.
Oh gosh, where do I begin? My first experience was when I was 17 and hauled every little thing I had in my teenage room, including porno magazines and toys I’d had as a child (all in the same plastic bag). Luckily the place was big enough for everything.
Second time round, I went to uni and was a little smarter. I’d already left some childhood memorabilia at my parents’ place, and chose only my computer (an Amiga at the time) and one guitar, plus clothes. Still, carrying everything by plane was a nightmare. Moving back to my parents’ place after uni was easy though, did it a little bit at a time.
Then I joined the army and had no personal posessions, apart from one set of civilian clothes (and a bag of basic stuff at my sister’s place).
Then I bought a car and put everything inside. Lived in a tiny flat where cardboard boxes of my things also served as furniture. Managed to fit everything in the car again.
After that I burnt half my things, but ended up inheriting my own home, which served as my permanent base until recently. It was the only experience of really “moving in” and it was wonderful. I had a Norah Jones CD playing the whole time on loop, while I crafted my own bed, desk, wardrobe etc. Every piece of wood in that place was DIY (made from scratch, not IKEA-style DIY), and most of it was crap, but I loved it.
Then I had to move again, first to Berlin, then to a small town in Poland. I travelled light, but it still felt I had far too many things. And I’m moving yet again as we speak, with everything stuffed inside a second-hand station-wagon. Will be moving back into my old place in Greece next week.
Sorry, I talk too much. And still not sure if I even answered your quesion. It’s just that moving around has become a way of life for me. One that I did not choose, but ended up having anyway, to the extent that I cannot imagine any other life anymore. I’ve given up on thinking that my next home will be my last ages ago.
Jack79, it’s funny how some people are hoarders, saving everything and others are trashers, travelling light through life. You seem to be one of the rare ones who can be either. My friend once extracted his girlfriend from her parents house to move into his apartment. She was about 20 something and, while helping her move out, found her old baby toys still under her bed!
It’s best if a hoarder marries a trasher. You won’t need much storage space due to the trasher disposing of excess crap. Yet the trasher can usually find a needed item on-the-spot in one of the hoarders piles.
Hoarders tend to leave vaguely- related items in piles scattered about. Trashers keep items well- organized and easy to find. Trashers can have items at- hand that are frequently lost in a hoarder pile somewhere by buying 30 of the same item. Say, if scissors are always hard to find, for example, the trasher can buy 30 of them, & place one in every drawer and every pile.
@psyla I have like 10 pairs of scissors. I wonder what that says about me…
Actually psyla I am a hoarder. But I am also very practical. So I have had a couple of major cleanouts which meant getting rid of massive amounts of stuff I didn’t need all in one go.
One such case was the burning of most of my old pictures, letters and writings back in 2002. But it was more a case of (literal) katharsis than practicality.
@augustlan: I don’t think it’s so weird to have a lot of scissors, but I think it’s freaky that you know how many you have.
The kind you don’t take home to motha’.
That girl’s a Super Freak.
That girl’s all right with me, yeah!
augustlan, if you keep your collection of 10 scissors in one place, & use them each for different purposes, you’re a trasher. If you keep them in one place but don’t use each one for specific purposes, like if you have a “scissors drawer”, you’re a hoarder. If you keep each one in a separate pile, you’re a trasher compensating for the unfathomable organization system of a hoarder.
Jack79, I also decimated my old belongings & poetry as a catharsis about 12 years ago. Sometimes I wonder if I should have saved the poems, & I always conclude that I’m glad they’re trashed & I started off new. But I did leave some old artwork at my parents house long ago. They would mail a piece or 2 of my art to me saying “remember this?”. They package it poorly & it arrives broken to pieces. It is so sad to receive a package of your old artifacts totally destroyed in the mail. Happy Birthday, here’s your old valuables broken to bits!
Oh my parents just throw all of my stuff away as “junk”.
A 1955 Gibson guitar? Who’d ever need that? Throw it away.
My first vinyl album? Who plays vinyls these days? Throw it.
And why on earth would anyone want to keep these collectible figurines? He’s grown now, he doesn’t play with toys. Dumped.
But of course they keep all the embarrassing pictures of you being potty trained for when your new girlfriend comes to visit.
Since I have moved a lot, I have gotten used to it. The bad part is that I do not have many memories of the Natives of Boston who have lived here their whole lives.
There was only two times I enjoyed moving. Once was when we moved to our new house in Pennsylvania and it was fun because our whole family was there. The next was moving into our house in Philadelphia because I love Philadelphia and I liked where we lived.
I hated moving to where we live now, and I still hate it after four years.
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