Moving is the Devil

Seriously.  If the Devil lived in a box, that box would be buried somewhere inside my new apartment right now.  

I. Hate. Moving.

My current entry way.  Welcome home Captain Hoarder.

 I have literally moved at least once a year since the age of 16.  16 times in 12 years, actually:  

• Boarding school dorm room 1
• Huntsville, AL for summer
• Boarding school dorm room 2
• Home on Hilton Head for summer
• UPenn dorm
• Emory houses 1 through 3
• UGA apartments 1 and 2
• Winston-Salem apartment for a whopping 6 mo
• Atlanta apartments 1 through 4
• Atlanta house
• Cincinnati

You'd think I'd have this down pat by now.  False.  So false.  This obsessive moving was mostly due to me forgetting that you can, in fact, re-sign a lease rather than finding a new roomie and floor plan every time.  I also tend to be the girl who will just live with anyone.  Someone I met in the leasing office while I was signing?  Done it.  Someone I had heard came from the same school I went to and was also named Rachel so therefore was likely fantastic?  Done it.  Randoms online?  Done it.  I lived with a dude who turned out to be a drug dealer.  I've lived with a girl from India who couldn't drive at the age of 32- so I taught her in a rental car and we hit poles, curbs, animals and guard rails until she passed her test. 

I've lived with girls, guys, friends, coworkers, strangers.  Some turned out great, others not so much.  

Now I appear to have at least landed myself a consistent, mildly normal human being as a roommate.  But this moving thing.  Good lord.  Here we have at least secured a spot in a bad ass location in the middle of this up and coming area called the Banks, right on the river and surrounded by brand new bars and restaurants.  I'm 3 blocks from the Bengals stadium and 2 blocks from the Reds.  However, even this little extravaganza will be up in 20 months, and therefore be the longest I've lived anywhere since I could legally operate a motor vehicle.  

This is a pano off my balcony - Bengals on left, Reds on right.  Pretty sweet!

And yet, every time I move it's the same cluster banana reaction of "oh my god, where did all this shit come from?!?!"  I think I have single handedly ensured the ongoing profitability of Goodwill.  I also have a good bit of Jew left in me and have managed to accumulate a lot of things for free, which tends to lend itself to my hoarding abilities.  

This move was no different.  We downsized a good bit coming here and I thought packing a 10 x 20 storage unit full of grand pianos, golf carts, and brand new china would do the trick.  Turns out 2 blenders, 2 crock pots and 68 t-shirts dating from 1996 on still made the trip.  (Yes, 1996.  My mathlete captain shirt will never see die.)  We can't have a grill here (shed a Green Egg tear), but we made sure to bring lots of tools, just in case someone else does!  And P's very own grill apron, with this emblazoned across the front:

It's amazing the crap that piles up even in a year.  And considering my latest purchasing frenzy has been due to the clearly necessary new collection of winter gear... it doesn't look like we're exactly heading in the right direction...