Boss Lady

So, last week we moved from Santa Monica to good ol' Irvine to put some roots down and embrace the suburban life.  Can I just say how much I dislike moving?  Honestly, it's the cruelest thing to have to take part in TWICE in four months!  Seriously, I hate moving.  Why you ask?  Why all the anger?  Well, stop asking questions and I'll tell you.

The following are the reasons I hate moving:

1. The utter delusion involved in moving.  You know what I'm talking about. A week before you move you think, "Gee, this will take a few hours to move everything because I barely own anything."  And then the day of the move comes, and you find yourself staring at piles of clothes, wedding gifts, books, towels and other pieces of crap, and you begin to consider lighting a match and just burning everything so you won't have to pack anything else.

2. The odds and ends.  Oh. my. gosh.  Again you know what I'm talking about.  For the first few hours of packing you are being all organized, labeling the boxes with things like, "clothes," "towels" etc. and then after all that stuff is packed away you are left with a box of staples, two wooden spoons, a plunger, some razors and a lifetime supply of napkins from various take out restaurants in the area.  What do you do with this crap?  I must have had four boxes labeled "Misc. Crap."

3. Other people moving your stuff.  Now you would think I would enjoy this part, but come on, we all know you don't handle people's stuff the way you handle your own.  Do you really care if your friend's coffee table gets destroyed?  Not really.  Do you care if your coffee table gets destroyed?  Definitely.  So, introduce a professional "I don't care because it's not my crap" company (Moving Company) and what do you get?  A bunch of guys grabbing the most expensive stuff you own, wondering if they could jam the door with it, so they don't have to keep opening it while they move your middle school yearbooks.

4. The "caring" beat down.  What do I mean by this?  Well, at nine o'clock am you wrap every piece of utensil for fear it will get scratched.  By nine o'clock pm - you are throwing your wedding china into a box with the iron and a toilet brush...and before you even make a motion to throw in some bubble wrap, you find yourself telling yourself, "Listen the china is high quality it will stay solid...and the iron needs to go anyway.  So, if it makes it - it was meant to be...if not..."

5. Unpacking.  Because inevitably the one screw to the crib, that holds it all together, is lost and somehow the only clothes you can immediately find, were actually the ones that were supposed to go to Goodwill.

As a side note this move was actually a lot better than the one four months ago. 1. My husband and his brother didn't have to move our couch and 2. Our moving company called me "Boss Lady" the whole time. I sort of miss those guys.  For a few hours I really felt like a Southern Plantation owner.