Moving Out

I utterly despise moving.

The packing. The planning. The lifting. I really hate the lifting.

And that it is such my luck that I was born into a transient family. I have moved with my family six times--not including rent houses. 

And, I have yet to settle into a house of my own. So I have been nomadically drifting from rent house to rent house. Right now I am at a dorm.

No, I have not started my college years again. But, I have spent the summer in the big NYC. And in an effort to shirk craigslist--it was a pain to sift through--I paid the extra money to live in "quality student living" which really means a dorm room.

And now, I am packing. And have a check out time a 9:30. I do not mind the packing--I am pretty organized and my mother trained me to roll, fold, and using every space available in a suitcase. But I am not looking forward to the lifting. I think that it dates back to my mother telling me to lug box after box to the car or moving van. My nickname was the "Pack Mule."

I am moving to Brooklyn for a week during the last bit of my internship. I will let you know how it goes.