Friday, May 11, 2012

Things I learned about moving...

  1. Don't.
  2. If you must, sell all your furniture.
  3. If that isn't possible, donate it to Habitat for Humanity and take the tax credits.
  4. If you still insist on being so emotionally attached to your furniture that you cannot let it go, make sure to never buy heavy furniture or a Tempurpedic mattress that has to go up stairs.
  5. If at all possible, get someone else to pack and move your belongings.  No matter how much advance notice you have of a move, you will not have enough time to do it all.  You'll realize you have stuff you don't need and aren't sure why you've kept it so long.  Then you'll find things you know you need to get rid of, but they have some sentimental value so you'll pack them up again.  You will stop to reminisce about those memories, people, events and never get finished packing.  I found a magnifying glass that  had been used by one of my ex-husbands' step-grandfather.  A man who came to live with us in 1998 and who died in January 2001 at the age of 80.  Six months after I left his grandson.  A magnifying glass that I've never, ever used.  But I kept it because it made me smile to think of him using it.  It moved with me from California to Georgia to Florida to Texas.  Where it finally stayed.
  6. When hiring someone to pack your furniture, be sure to follow behind them when they disassemble any furniture and put all nuts, bolts, screws, attaching whatjamajiggers into a zip lock back with the name of the piece of furniture written on it with a Sharpie pen.  Keep those bags with you at all times.  Guard them with your life, and don't let them be packed in a box by the movers.  When I moved from Florida to Texas the movers took apart my lamps.  Base.  Harp.  Shade.  You'd think it would make sense to pack them all in the same box.  You'd think.  After searching boxes for six months in Texas, I finally went and bought new lamp harps for all of my lamps.  I found them a month later.  In a box marked books.  I still have never found the nuts and bolts for the wooden bed frame, but fortunately, it holds together just fine.  Especially with a Tempurpedic box spring and mattress.  Queen size.
  7. Accept the highest insured value offered.  That will guarantee that they will take extra care with stacking and packing your boxes, and things marked fragile will not be put underneath other boxes or pieces of furniture so heavy that they will flatten the box.  Hopefully.
  8. If you have anything of true value, take it with you or ship it ahead.
  9. If you decide to save money and pack things yourself in spite of my warning, be sure to still take the maximum insurance.  It won't make any difference in how they treat your belongings, but at least you will get some satisfaction when you can go shopping on their dime for the things they broke.  I will simply be taking things to the dumpster.
  10. Don't watch them load the truck.  It will give you nightmares.
  11. Don't watch them unload the truck.  You will wonder how all your items could have fit in a 4' x 4' area.  When you see the flat boxes marked fragile, you will understand.
  12. If you chose to move yourself, and are moving into a two-story house, plan on keeping all the heavy furniture downstairs.  Trust me.  It is not worth the hernia or the strained back to attempt to get it up a narrow set of stairs.  If anyone asks about the Tempurpedic bed in the living room, tell them you have been having LSD flashbacks of the 60's and 70's and think that it is groovy.
  13. Remember to remind yourself constantly... change is a good thing.  Change is a good thing.  Change is a good thing.


  1. Sorry Cindy, I know this is real and painful but I am smiling.
    And yes, the last time we moved work was paying for it. They packed, they unpacked, they paid. And not a lot was broken. Just the things that mattered.

    1. And I was smiling also when I wrote it. You really must be able to laugh at life if you expect to live it. "Just the things that mattered." Sometimes the broken things that matter can be fixed... or we realize that they are just things. A small Hummel figurine I've had since childhood was just broken... and it was just a thing. The memories remain...