Moving Pains

We’re moving. After 14 years in the same house we decided it was time to downsize. It’s a season in life thing, you know? We were lucky, very lucky. Our home sold in just two weeks. The buyers though, wanted us out in five weeks. Trust me; that isn't a lot of time to clean closets you last looked in the day you moved into the house. Don’t even mention the attic, the garage or the crawl space.

The idea of moving into a brand new home is exciting. It’s the kind of thing that starts with a Sunday afternoon drive and one of those “What if we…” conversations. Next thing you know the papers are signed and you’re looking forward to a new adventure. Like a hangover, it hits you on the morning after. There may be a few things you never thought of while you were deciding what color to paint your new dining room. You actually have to move. Packing, a lot of packing is involved. Still you tend to underestimate the pain factor.

For one thing, you have some tough decisions to make. Not like what to do about Iran and its potential nuclear capability. That’s easy. We’re talking about what to do with fine china that doesn’t even make an appearance on Thanksgiving anymore. If you are even thinking about moving I have some friendly advice.     

            If you own any firearms, baseball bats or an archery bow, be sure to pack them first and send them to a neutral third party. Consider packing the knives and any other sharp objects you have as well. These simple steps will ensure that neither you nor your spouse will use them on each other. You will both be overtired and emotional. Listen: Over the last two weeks there were moments when I pondered the idea that my new address might well be a maximum security cell in the penitentiary rather than Nolensville, Tennessee.

            Permit me to explain. Before any actual packing begins you have to decide what to keep, what to give to Goodwill and what to put out on trash day. If you’ve been married a long time like we have, unless you suffer from clutter phobia, there is no way you don’t have stuff you should have discarded years ago. When my wife went through one of our closets and agonized over whether to get rid of a dress that was still cellophane wrapped with the dry cleaner label from New Jersey, I berated myself for not having a divorce lawyer on speed dial. We left New Jersey 18 years ago. That dress and its many friends in the closet have enjoyed luxury closet living in several states except when they inhabited expensive wardrobe boxes. I put my foot down. The dresses had to go.

            My wife could not have been kinder about it. She agreed that it was time to let some things go. Then she said, “Len, let’s look in the attic. I’m sure there are some things up there we can get rid of while we’re at it.” We did find a few items. Every speech I ever wrote for my Toastmasters club during the last 30 years was in one of the three filing cabinets I keep. There were income tax returns from the 1970s. And, there were letters, some going back 40 years. I patiently explained that one day those letters would come in handy when it was time to write my memoir. She rolled her eyes and pointed to the trash bag. I complied. She has a speed dial too.

            We went through a lot of paper. So much paper that the original estimate we got from the moving company was high. We’re talking thousands of pounds of paper. You think I’m exaggerating right? Want to know what it cost us to move from New Jersey to Tennessee in 1994? Interested in what our heating bill was for January 1978? Had you asked a week ago I could have told you. At long last these critical documents have met their maker; Shred-it. Of course we did consider retaining the services of Iron Mountain instead, but we came to our senses on that one thanks to a compromise. I get to keep one of my filing cabinets. That dress is moving with us to a closet in Nolensville.