Moving is not for the faint of heart

I’ve lived in one place my entire life. And no, I don’t mean the same city or province or what-have-you – I mean the same house, the same room, for the past 20 years. I’ve never moved.

As part of my parents’ divorce settlement, we have to sell the house. It’s going on the market next week. So in order to get prepared, we have to clean everything.

And I mean everything.

My room is nine by eleven, I believe – the size of a prison cell. I’ve had to make do my entire life. But I never realized just how much shit I fit into it until I had to take it all out.

My room has always been messy. I am entirely capable of keeping it clean, but because it’s so small it actually inhibits my ability to keep up with it. Drop one thing on the floor and it looks filthy. A few years ago we added a computer desk and the only place to put it was blocking the doors to the closet; I otherwise only have a small dresser, and a lot of clothes, so those took residence on the floor.

Stuffies lined the walls. The drawers of my murphy bed were packed with so much shit that I couldn’t open some of them. I hadn’t seen in the inside of my closet in six or so years.

Holy God.

Why do people move if this is what they have to endure each time? Alternately, is this why people move, so they routinely purge their house of junk?

I hauled out of my tiny room at least three bags of garbage, four of recycling, and three of giveaways – one of which is just stuffies alone. My closet was filled with clothes I hadn’t seen in ten years, and toys I hadn’t touched in just as long.

It was brutal.

It’s all spick and span now, through tireless labour. But it was a long road getting there. And I still have 10+ boxes of books, magazines, and nerdy collectibles to store somewhere while the house is being shown.

Moving sucks. I realize this now.

Reluctant as I was at the beginning to toss old schoolwork or stories and drawings from ages ago, or clothes that were still relatively new and still fit, my grandmother made a fair point that changed my attitude and made tossing things much easier, especially in terms of all the clothes I have.

If you haven’t worn it in a year, it no longer belongs to you.

It belongs to someone else at that point, because you haven’t thought of it in ages. In terms of the stuffies I have, I’m certainly keeping those that meant a lot to me, but there are going to be some really happy kids in town who get my beanie babies – and a giant bear that’s probably four feet tall standing.

Maybe my moving experience is unique because I’ve never done it before. Has anyone else experienced it like this, or has it always just flown by easy peasy?

We’ll catch up on the next round of hairventures next post.

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