Moving Day(s)

I moved this past week, and let me tell you, it's not anything new to me. In the past four years, I have moved all or partially 4 or 5 times. Sure that first one was the worst. Emotionally unready to leave my 7+ year cloister on the second floor of a most perfect apartment, I bought a house that was not much bigger and no where near any place I knew. That one was rough. I had barely packed - without friends, I'd be living out of U-Haul truck now.

Then I moved North. In stages, and in varying degrees of readiness. I've been spread over 400 miles of I-5 for the past 20 months, as well as over the 49 square miles of SF, and the 280 to San Jose. You get used to it: the boxes, the missing glasses, the giving away of the ONE thing you need two weeks later. 5 days prior to taking my new apartment, I had unpacked boxes that had been packed some 4 years earlier. Perfect.
I have always relied on the kindness of strangers friends for my moves - and I had caused them all a lot of grief for that kindness. Unpacked kitchens, Thanksgiving traffic jams, cold pizza - the list goes on. This one would be different, organized and smooth. And for the most part it was. Materials largely ready, enough boxes, plans made - and it went according to them.

But in the middle of the smoothest move of my life, surrounded by laughing and smiling faces, I heard a snap: it was the camel's back, and that was it. I'm done. No more of this. Maybe it was because I wasn't stressed enough about the move to avoid thinking about how ridiculous it was that I'm having my friends help me move. I think I probably spent more money doing it that way than renting two dudes and a truck. I'd be much happier buying friends beers for fun than for lifting heavy things. I mean, they're my friends - why would I make them lift stuff??

Anyway. In a year or two or three, will see if my newly held conviction holds up, but for now…I'm done.

Peter