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moving

I hate moving. Growing up, I lived in the same house until the day I left to go to college. My parents still live in that house. Through the years, they made a number of decisions, including my dad quitting at least one job when he was transferred to Louisiana, in order to not have to move. I think I'm a fairly rare case, but I really appreciate the decisions they made to keep us from moving.

Things have changed a little bit since then then: since college, going on 8 residences, including 4 abodes in 7 years in Atlanta. Quelle horreur! Friday, I move into house #2 in Nashville. I'm really excited about it: #1, to have a roommate, #2 a fantastic new roommate, and #3 a bigger, nicer house. I've hired movers, so that alleviates a lot of the stress, but moving is still one of the most stressful things in the world to me. It means change, disturbing my routines, knocking me out of my comfort zone.

Lying on the couch last night watching a terrible movie (The Informant!- turned it off halfway through), it all hit me: You're moving in 3 days and your house is a wreck. You only have 3 more nights of living alone and only having to think about yourself, of not having to talk to anyone if you don't want to.

But it will be over on Saturday and I will have a fabulous new house with a wonderful new roommate, enough space to have people over, and the lazy, selfish parts of me will be more subject to sanctification. And these are all good things, not to be stressed over.

posted by CP @ 11:04 AM 1 thoughts