I’m pretty sure that moving is a special little hell created out of one’s own belongings. It is, apparently, the third most stressful thing to deal with in life (after death and divorce.)
Some people seem to have it together, though. You know, those folks with organized Rubbermaid bins with numbers and descriptions on them made with a label maker. You can just imagine them, in their newly painted house, lifting off the lid while butterflies just fly out as the “Reading Rainbow” theme somehow plays out of nowhere.
I’m not that person. Last night I picked packing tape out of my hair while going through old cards from my Nana. Then I sat on a cardboard box crying and ate a box of crackers and half a jar of pickles, got up, tripped over a fan and yelled "I'M ABOUT TO SET THIS PLACE ON FIRE!" loud enough that my neighbours might be concerned... so then I yelled "Just kidding, guys!"
With dwindling sanity and a hefty amount of caffeine in my veins, it is here where I ask you for your help:
HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU MOVED?
Any tips?
What is the best thing about moving?
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