We were helping my sister-in-law move this weekend and it reminded me how much I consider myself fortunate that I didn’t have to do a lot of moving while growing up. Then I reached my early 20s and made up for all of that lack of packing, and sometimes it feels like I haven’t stopped!
Moving can be a very exciting time. It’s not that I don’t like going places or having life changes, it’s just that the packing and unpacking is a real pain. It’s tedious, time consuming, and generally chaotic. At least it is for me.
When I moved from home for college, I got lucky and got right into an apartment that was close to everything I needed, so there was no need for me to leave it for a few years. But then there was a fire. Generally those types of things leave buildings uninhabitable. So I moved. Then I moved again. Then again, and again, and again…
In three years I packed and moved my belongings eight times. Eight. Times. Thankfully this was before kids were in the picture and the quantity of belongings was pretty light. But it was still eight flipping times. Eight times trying to find what box my underwear went into, eight times trying to find the cheese grater.
At the end of the eighth move, I was now settled and didn’t move residences again for eleven years. Sounds good, right? Guess again.
Right as I was unpacking for the last time for a while, I also started my teaching career. At this time our school was undergoing a lot of new construction. This means old classrooms get demolished to make way for new buildings. This means teachers get moved from room to room as construction goes on. Yes, teachers (me) get moved. Crap.
Six times. Six. Flipping. Times. I had to pack up and unpack my classroom materials six times. I teach biology. It’s a lab class. I have a lot of classroom materials. I had to pack and unpack those materials six times in the span of four years. Right after I had finished moving eight times.
I finally had a reprieve from packing and unpacking for a few years. This was good because I then went through some other life things (divorce, single motherhood, marriage) and moving during all of that would have sent me over the edge! But then the house I had been in began to feel a little small, especially as my youngest was on his way. Time to pack. Again.
I told my husband that this was the last time I was moving. Ever. They were going to have to haul my remains away when the time came, because I didn’t want to move again. We have now been in our home for over a decade, and it looks like we are good to stay. It’s just that now we’ve been helping family move. At least I don’t have to find my underwear!