Friday Five: Moving!

Mother Laura from the RevGals gives us this wonderful Friday Five about moving!

We are right in the middle of a move--only twenty minutes away, but we're still a mix of busy, excited, nervous and surprisingly full of grief about what we're leaving, for me at least. So this week's Friday Five asks about your experience of the marvels and madness of moving...

1. How many times have you moved? When was the last time?

I've moved 3 and a half times, and I add the half because the last move was in two stages - we moved everything out of my apartment and into storage, and then a week later, we moved out of storage and into our wee house. That was in November of 2006.

2. What do you love and hate about moving?

Well, I suppose what I love about moving is the opportunity to start fresh, the opportunity to re-organize and de-clutter, but that's about it. I really hate the process. I hate the feeling of seeing everything I own in boxes. I hate packing. I hate unpacking. I hate cleaning the old place when all you really want to do is get out and move on.

3. Do you do it yourself or hire movers?

I have always moved myself, but when WH and I moved into our little house, we swore that the next time we would hire movers. We'll see how we feel when we get there, and we'll see what the finances are like, but I suspect we'll stick to our plan and bring in the professionals. I'd like my hide-a-bed lifting days to be over.

4. Advice for surviving and thriving during a move?

Well, my advice for anybody involved in a move with me is to take nothing I say to you personally. I apologize in advance for the epic bad mood and the potty mouth.

Also, frequent hugs are good.

5. Are you in the middle of any inner moves, if not outer ones?

I can't think of anything tangible at this point that will blog effectively!

Mother Laura provided a bonus question, but I'm going to create my own here and tell the story of my most memorable move. My first move "out" was into a two bedroom apartment with a dear girlfriend from University. We lived together for two years and had a wonderful time. Then she got married and moved into her new house with her new husband. There was absolutely no reason for me to stay in a two-bedroom apartment, so I asked the landlord if I could move into a one-bedroom suite in the same building. I was assured that one would be coming available at the end of the month because another tenant was being evicted. I wasn't able to get in to that suite to see it, but I was shown another identical suite and it looked perfect. (FIRST LESSON - Always press to see the exact suite you'll be moving in to.) As the month wore on, there was no sign that the tenant in the other suite was going to recognize the eviction notice, which foolishly had not had a firm exit date put on it, but rather, a "please leave as soon as possible" caveat. Chorus's stress level began to elevate. About two days before the end of the month, after much pestering of the other tenant by the landlord, the other tenant finally left. I was very glad, and asked to see the suite. I was told no, that I really didn't want to see it until they had a chance to get the cleaners in... Alarm bells started to go off. I put my foot down. And the landlord said, "Ok, you can see it, but don't worry." Alarm bells at a major high pitch by this point.

So we went over.

And the apartment was an absolute and complete disastrous mess. There were several contributing factors:
-the previous tenant had been evicted and so chose to take her furniture and leave all her trash
-the previous tenant appears to have lived in a big pile of garbage
-the previous tenant appears to have been some kind of wacko

There was garbage everywhere. The fridge and kitchen were full of rotting food and dirty dishes. There was food all over the walls, mostly ketchup by the look of it. The hardwood floors had been scarred beyond repair. The bathroom was... gross. She had drawn a picture of herself in permanent paint on the bathroom mirror. There were beer bottles everywhere.

I wept.

In all my years, I don't think I've ever been as grateful as I was to the women that came in to clean that apartment. In 12 hours, they turned what was essentially a one-bedroom landfill into a nice, clean space. We came in on their heels and painted every surface, and the apartment turned into a beautiful home for me for two years.