We are in a feverish state of packing at the moment. Signed a lease on a home across town with 14 days to put everything inside of a packing vessel to be ready to roll for the movers coming on the 31st. After a certain amount of time you can no longer call onto your friends to help you move. My friends are all well into their 50’s now and trying to picture them helping me haul a sectional into a box truck seems like an action of insanity. Add me to that group I no longer have the whim to carry large pieces of furniture from one place to another. I don’t care how much it costs I’ll start an onlyfans if I have to. I have one friend that helped me move so much that when I text him out of the blue his first response is “I’m not helping you move a couch.”

-side story I used to buy a new or used sofa about once a year for a decade because I’m like Goldilocks when it comes to furniture.

“This one is too hard”

“This one is too soft”

“The pillows sag on this one”

“I keep falling into the crevasse”

“The seat is too deep”

“This one smells like a gerbil when it rains outside”

“This one is sticky” (any leather sofa in the summer)

We’ve got one I enjoy now. The cushions still sag though

I don’t move furniture anymore. In my younger days my wife would come home from work and I’d have moved a 9 foot sofa upstairs to a nook in the bedroom solo. I have no idea where that brute strength came from or where it went because now I have to stretch before pushing a barstool up to a counter.

I took down about 20 storage boxes from the attic that had last seen daylight from our last move. We all have these storage boxes of old memories that we refuse to release from our grips.

Ancestral trinkets that would evaporate into dust should oxygen get into the seal.

Multiple books of fiction you’ve had since you lived in a dorm

Clothes with tags still on them that you intended to wear for a special occasion that never occasioned

Keepsakes like that cigarette bud that was smoked by Eddie Van Halen you pulled out of the ashtray and put into a ziplock bag (I kept it for 5 years)

That one unlabeled VHS tape that you can’t get rid of because you don’t know what’s on it and don’t want it to fall into enemy hands.

That briefcase of 100 CDs that you’ll never listen to again but you invested half of your 90’s income into your song library and toy refuse to part with it.

The fun discovery of old loose photos that fall out of the boxes while you’re packing. We all sit still for a moment and smile at these regardless of how ridiculous we used to dress ourselves back in the single days is thirstiness.

Finding old photos of your parents

Old work parties where everyone has crooked faces from getting tequila bombed

That party shirt you used to love and wear only during the drunkest of fests

That group of friends that were your best buds in the entire universe but you’ve all lost touch

Occasionally there’s a photo thread of “yep into the trash with you” where you cringe

Old love notes and cards that remind you of what’s always the most important

Daughter’s art and thank you notes. Her old stuffed animals that you refuse to throw away because it would be like throwing away memories of her childhood. I can think of at least 3 or 4 that will always be in our possession.

Linens and textiles man for some reason I refuse to throw away old blankets and pillows. I finally tossed some aside yesterday.

Junk drawers, the social equalizer. I bet even the pope has one. A fun thing to do sometime is to empty out your junk drawer and notate the contents. We have three of them. One with random shit no one knows if it’s important to the other so we swipe counter contents into the nearest drawer. Loose change, travel cup lids from assorted yetis phone cords from yesteryear, receipts just in case the accountant needs to know if you’re writing off a box of Tictacs from QT.

The other junk drawer is for specified items of use. That random screwdriver that’s used to cut open envelopes, dull scissors for on the spot crafting, 14 bottle openers, warranty of the air fryer that hasn’t been used for 4 years that sits under the kitchen counter in your junk cabinet (do I need to talk about this one?)

Glassware, this is a peeve of mine. A family of three doesn’t need 47 varieties of cups, mugs, pints, steins, cocktail glasses, flutes, Nalgenes, wine glasses. Literally no one in my home drinks wine.

Camping gear? Oof. I’m so happy I have four different fold out tables and 5 camping chairs. One that I ran over but I’m still like “I can fix him”

I have things on top of my fridge that have veins permanent unused fixtures of posterity. I’m sure that one of those ceramic airtight containers with no label holds a dead aunt’s ashes inside.

Electronics that are outdated. I still have my flip phone that I refuse to throw away because it has old pics of my daughter on it. I’m sure one of the 135 old chargers I’ve saved will revive it.

Redistribution of your furniture into another home is a crap shoot. Everything purchased within the last 5 years was meant to fit in its specific location and niche.

A mise en place of movable fitments

If the room is too small you may have to move that accent chair into the bathroom

If it’s too big you have to go out and buy some whimsical piece to sit in the corner of the room. Where else are you put your folded laundry for three days?

Pulling off old photos from the walls, tape taking 4 layers of leaded paint with it. Then you’re left with this thought of “does this one get hung back up?” You can see my nipples through that shirt.”

*looks around living room filled with boxes and clothes

*sighs

This next home won’t be home it’s temporary but necessary.

As I said last time we are Queuing

Got a junk truck pulling up this afternoon to remove some old stagnation. It’s needed and also necessary

Scooter Blues is playing in my headphones for some reason it resonates at the moment. “Wave to the world, screaming “Hasta Luego!”

Gotta finish packing up.

Peace