Moving Out

I'm writing this at a McDonald's taking a break from day one of my move. Those who follow my story know I moved partially to Las Vegas last month, but left the bulk of my belongings back in Jersey. I'm back, after finishing my teacher training, to sift through the detritus of my life and try to pack it up.

Moving is listed as one of the most stressful periods anyone can go through. Usually it has a positive spin to it--"movin' on up to the East Side, to that deluxe apartment in the sky." Certainly each of my moves--this is the fourth--has been another peg forward in the game of Life. But there is just so much shit to deal with, so many other people to rely on, so many ways for it to go wrong.

Technology has made a lot of things easier. You can change addresses for most things on the Internet. I got a moving company and just confirmed my reservation--I had a mortal fear of awaiting them on Saturday morning and them not showing--and I've got a storage space to keep my stuff (my girlfriend's house is already stocked with furniture, so I'm keeping my books and assorted bric-a-brac in storage for the nonce).

The difficulty is going through an apartment where I've lived for eighteen years and attempting to pack it up or throw it out. Mostly it's throw it out, and I've felt some pangs. When I threw my collection of 45s out it hit me--I've had those for forty years, and even though I have nothing to play them on it's sad to see them go. I am chucking out a bedroom set of dressers that I've had since I was a kid--I never bought my own bedroom set as an adult--but I'm glad to see them go, because the drawers haven't worked right for years.

I also have to get rid of a sofa bed, but no charity wants it. It's a monstrously-sized thing; I can certainly understand. I hate to just put it out by the trash, but that seems to be the only thing to do.

I also have to face that I am extremely slovenly. I'm finding all sorts of garbage: old Chinese menus, bills, receipts, a king's ransom in coins, pens, pencils, photos, and loads of lint. Each item gets a quick scan for saveability--most gets put into the extra-large black trash bags. I want to try to save family photos, but any book I've already read and can't imagine looking at again gets tossed. My collection of LPs is probably going to go, too. I could take them over to Princeton Record Exchange to see if they want to buy them, but I doubt it's worth the trouble.

I wish I could say this is my last move but it won't be. My girlfriend would like to move to a smaller house on one level in a different part of Vegas. She is the opposite of me--the house is spare of furnishings and clean as a pin. Already she sees a change in me. I will never be a neat-freak, but now that I am living with someone I will have to dial back my hoarder instincts.

The movers come on Saturday. I have two and a half more days to pack and toss.