The Joys of Moving


The last two weeks of packing all my worldly possession culminated into last weekend. With careful planning I was going to rise Saturday to finish the last load and leave my old apartment behind me, or at least that was the plan.

Fate, on the other hand, had a more twisted design. Instead of being able to complete my packing before Saturday, illness struck with a mighty fist. All energy escaped from my body even as I struggled a clear passage through my nose and my living room. Even then my throat croaked, and I was left with nothing. Within two days I thought there might be reprieve, when my twisted stomach handed me over to the evil fates with a final heave. A porcelain mug and a might soft couch, both provided by the boyfriend, where the only things that could avail me.

Waking Saturday I dreaded the day, but forced optimism. Survival was not a choice!

We had to heave a bed, dresser, and couch from a first floor apartment into a second floor walk-up with a doorway with a hatred for anything wide. With the force of the boyfriend, JL and I, somehow a 34″ wide couch fit through a 30″ wide door frame. That’s when I knew, through the sweat and dizzy delirium, that this day was actually going to be successful not just survived.

By 11pm the bedroom was mostly organized and sleepable, and the living was the image of perfection. The remaining kitchen wares would be pieced together over the last days. Survival was not a choice, but this level of success was godly!

Today as I finish unpacked the last of my bags,  life finds a new and improved routine. In this there is infact joy from the result of moving, even when the act was a so so challenging.

Please let me never have to do it again.

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