Pouring salt into a cut. Being pepper sprayed, than Tasered by a cop, than stung by a swarm of angry African bees. Using a public toilet after getting giardia.
What do these all have in common? They are all probably things I rather do than move to a different house.
In my mind, moving is one of my least favorite things.
I’ve lived all over the western United States, but have actually been at my recent place for well over a year.
I was content there and up until last week I had no plans of moving to a new place anytime soon.
Then, through a series of strange circumstances, things changed and this past week I have found myself in the process of moving from Rock Springs to Green River.
It will be nice to be super close to work, but just the process of moving makes me nervous, sad, and whine more than I usually about everyone and everything.
Maybe it’s just the change.
Everyone gets comfortable with life and change can be daunting.
I’ve always been somewhat scatterbrained, and this gets worse when I have to move.
I don’t know where to start. Rather than just starting to do it, I think for hours about how much I have to do, and in what order I’m going to do it.
The other day I was trying to watch the NCAA basketball tournament, and rather than focus on the games, I instead was thinking about how I can get a king sized bed and couch in the truck at the same time.
I say it all the time, but you also find out who your true friends are during a move.
I have a ton of so-called “Facebook” friends, but I guarantee if I put a post about needing help moving I would get about 10 responses for help, of which two would actually show up.
That’s just the way it goes, because unfortunately, nobody likes to move.
I really commend people who are professional movers. I don’t know how they could be that much of gluttons for punishment. I could not think of a worse job.
Of course the day I had to move, the wind was blowing hard enough there were warning signs on Interstate 80, which of course had to be my route.
I’m descent at a few things in life, but tying down furniture in a truck is not one of them.
If you see some nice stuff laying between Rock Springs and Green River, feel free to pick it up and enjoy.
I rather you have my wind-blown goodies, than to have to load them back up and try again.
The funny part about all of it is that I really don’t have a lot of stuff. It’s not like I’m moving the Brady Bunch.
I’m not even moving Alice and Sam the Butcher. It’s just me and the cat.
He feels the same way. As soon as he sees me start to pack or load stuff, Peaches starts acting weird.
The moment I took him to the apartment he acted like I had not fed him for months. His moans and whine sounded like some sort of weird Monk chanting. I feel sorry for him, but than I get to thinking about the next time I’m going to move and if I should just leave everything packed.
When I left the first morning to go to work, Peaches did not want to be there. As I was walk to my car, heard a commotion and looked to see him smack against the front window.
The poor cat was trying to jump outside to go with me.
And speaking of the first day at a new apartment. It was nice for the move that I was on the bottom level, but that means there would be people on top of me.
I’m not quite sure what they were doing, but it seems like roller staking, rearranging furniture, opening the closest door 4,654 times, and stomping, would probably be better served between the hours of 8 a.m. and 10 p.m.
I’m sure the next few weeks I will be nervous, but i will eventually get comfortable. Until it’s time to move again.
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