The Joys of Moving

Fiance and I have now moved into an apartment, as of the 1st. I have been lagging pretty hard since then, so I haven’t found much motivation to write. I also sustained a concussion on the Saturday before the move, so it made things extra difficult both with the move and the recovery afterwards. Maybe it was the concussion, but it seems like this was the most difficult move I was involved in. Obviously I had little to do with my family’s first couple of moves, as I was little, but the more we moved, the more I started doing. The first time I did a move solo was in 2007. I was just turning 20 and moving out of my parents house, because the controlling nature of my parents (read: my father) was causing me far too much stress. I did a “big” move, moving all of the vital, important pieces to my apartment in Zelienople, but since my parents were still in the house in Evans City, I was free to take my time gathering the smaller, non-essential items. It was pretty stress-free and about as great a move as moving can get. The move after that was hurried and haphazard. I was being evicted and I had a limited time in which to move. Of course, my boyfriend at the time did nothing as far as pre-packing went, so the move took the whole day of throwing random shit in bags and what boxes we had and shuffling it to a storage unit a friend was lending us space in and also to the camper trailer that we would be living in. We had several friends helping us, though, so even then it didn’t seem so bad, it was just overwhelming and stressful because of the events surrounding it. My next move was fairly similar to my first solo move. We had found a duplex trailer for rent and since we had no hard and fast timeline to adhere to, we were able to take our time. My boyfriend at the time actually wanted to delay moving in, but I pressured him because I really didn’t want to spend one more night of having to navigate a driveway and two flights of stairs just to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. We stayed in that duplex trailer for a nice chunk of time until my father finally offered to help us. The deal was he would move us out to where he was in Ohio and would pay our rent while I went to college and my boyfriend either worked or went to college (which, he essentially ended up doing neither) to help us get on our feet. We spent our first night in that apartment on October 31st, 2011. We had taken most of our stuff via my father’s truck, but we had left a mattress and sofa, intending to come back for it. However, by the time my father was able to drive us out there a couple of days later (our car was totaled by that point), the mattress was in the landlord’s truck and the sofa was left in the duplex and a new tenant was already there. We let him keep the sofa (he said he didn’t have a bed … which, if that’s the case, I have to wonder why the landlord didn’t just let him keep the damn mattress, but the landlord was a fucktarded drunk). Anyway, it was no harm no foul for us, as we were able to find free furniture to supplement us. By that time, we had lost the storage unit we’d rented because, as I think I’ve mentioned before, my boyfriend was somehow averse to paying bills. I didn’t even get a chance to get some cherished things from the storage unit as same boyfriend was an idiot and lost the damn key. There are some things I truly regret losing as a result, but there’s nothing I can really do about it now but be grateful for what I was able to rescue before the key was lost. The last move before this one was very harried, but it was pretty simple. I had just broken up with my boyfriend two weeks prior. We were having to move anyway because the landlords we had were wanting to raise our rent to something we couldn’t afford when the lease was up at the end of the month, so I decided to act on my brother’s offer to move me out to the Twin Cities area. It was as last minute as you can get without it occurring in the same day. I finalized and came to terms with my decision on a Thursday night. That Friday – my last payday before the end of the month – I gave my notice at work. I cashed my paycheck and spent that night packing. I packed all day Saturday and ran a few needed errands. My father mercifully sent me some money to help fund my cross-country trip. That night I packed up my car with as much as I could fit into it. I barely slept, between nerves and my new kitten wanting to play with me. I think I got about four hours sleep total, maybe. At that point, I’d last eaten some ramen on Friday night. I woke up early Sunday morning, drove to the closest Wal-Mart with an auto center for an oil change, and then set off. My last thought (and facebook status) before I left the parking lot was a quote from Pirates of the Caribbean: “Bring me that horizon.” I spent almost all of Ohio in crying jags. Heartbroken at what had only just happened. Overwhelmed at what I was currently doing. Scared as to what was going to happen in the future. I knew that it was the best choice I could make, but it was still extremely stressful, and I’d been so busy trying to get everything done that I hadn’t had any time to process my breakup of a six year relationship. Through Indiana and Illinois, I started feeling better. Having crossed state lines, I was feeling more accomplished and excited at the prospect of a new life. Once I crossed over into Wisconsin, however, the reality of only having about four hours of sleep started to set in. I also hadn’t eaten yet that day, as my cat started fussing up a storm whenever I stopped for too long, so any rest stops were as quick as possible. I had drank a couple of energy drinks, but they made me have to use the bathroom too much, so I resorted to dragging on my e-cigarette. The last 100 miles to my mum’s house in Wisconsin, I swear I was constantly taking drags on it. It likely saved my life, giving me the little boosts I needed to keep going. We had agreed to meet at the Wal-Mart in Rib Mountain, a place and area I was infinitely familiar with as we’d spent quite a bit of time in the area. However, by that time, I was so tired, I honestly couldn’t tell if I was pulling off at the right exit or not, but I figured I could always pull into a parking lot and call my mother and just tell her where I was and to come get me. Fortunately, my instincts were correct, and I took the right exit. I paced outside my car, jumping around and trying to wake myself up. Since my mother had a new house that was somewhat difficult to get to, she wisely decided to just meet me. Bless her, she brought my stepdad, so I was able to hand my keys over to him to drive my car as I truly didn’t feel safe behind the wheel. Bless her for also stopping at a Taco Bell and buying food for me. Tacos and burritos never tasted so good before. I ended up spending several days at her house, just resting and recuperating from the whole ordeal. That Friday morning, I drove the three and a half hours to the Twin Cities area to avoid the Labor Day holiday traffic, and I stayed in that house until the beginning of this month. While that experience was very difficult and draining, I’d actually say this last move was the worst I’ve had so far. My fiance and I didn’t have anyone to help us with the move, so we packed up what we could here and there, but there was still various and a sundry little things that we couldn’t do anything with until the day of the move. That morning, we walked over the Uhaul place and picked up the truck, deposited my portion of the rent money in his bank account, and then loaded up the truck. The big stuff was actually the easier part at that point, it was getting all the little things put in bags and boxes and getting them on the truck that took the longest. Once at the apartment, it was almost the opposite that was true, and the little things were much easier to haul up the flight of stairs to the second story apartment. The memory foam mattress was the worst thing we struggled with. And the lightheadedness and headaches I kept getting from the concussion were not helping, either. We got everything done, however, and we were both so glad we had the next day off. The day after, though, we both had to go back to work, and I think that’s what made it the worst: the feeling of little respite before getting back into the normal schedule of things. At least with the previous move, I had no job to get to at that point, so I could take my time to recuperate before being thrust into a schedule. Most of the major things have been unpacked so far, most of what remains is just clothes, which need to be sorted. Joy. I’m hoping to get in on that this weekend. Hopefully. 😛


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