Moving house is a weird process.
First of all, there’s the realization that you cannot stay where you are. This naturally comes as a shock (whether actively or subliminally), because humans are resistant to change. Sure, the situation sucked, but… move? But move you must, for better or for worse, and thus followeth the second stage.
Hunger. You realized you’ve got to move, and now you want to make the move a good thing. You look up all the options, you hunt for a better place, you scour the land for something you can swallow. You’re repelled by places that look uncomfortable or uninviting in any way. But luckily, it’s that hunger that fuels the next stage.
Packing. This is the part where you deconstruct your entire living space, review all your belongings, and discard between 35% and 50% of your current life. You keep assorted items (bookcases, bed frames, tools, heirlooms, some of your more expensive items, vital clothes) but toss the rest.
Traveling comes next. You sit behind the wheel (or in the back seat) of little motorized vehicle while you follow or lead a truck/trailer containing your life. Everything hangs by a thread. One little slip and your life could be shattered and strewn across the road. You either live in ignorant bliss or you take deep, slow breaths the whole way.
Unpacking. Provided everything arrived safely, you get to start on this next stage. This could end up delightful while you line your new living space with all your things (and in doing so, notice that all your things feel fresh and new again), but this is mixed with annoyance. Why did he pack this? Why didn’t she throw that away yesterday? Your unpacking stage turns into a half unpacking, half throwing-out stage. Lots of clothes donated to charity. Dusty cookbooks and crockery are tossed to family or friends or the same charity as the clothes. Some things have spoiled: the cooking oil wasn’t quite sealed, so you have to toss or scrub down everything from that box.
Settling in. You’ve got to vacuum the floor (which was spotless before you moved in) and do a bunch of things that feel like only moving out chores. You spend hours stacking things in cupboards and wardrobes. Finally everything is sorted and neat. You begin (pretty much) the same life as you had before, but with a different route to work (and perhaps a slightly different job).
This is all fine and weird. Did I just go through it? Yup. The darnedest thing, though, is that somehow we managed to pick the hottest day of the year (so far) to move. That’s 40.5 C (Google tells me that’s 104.9 F; I love American spelling and punctuation, but temperatures are all foreignheit to me). But also humid. So 40.5 C and humid. Seriously, don’t do that. I must’ve drunk 20+ liters of water and orange juice and other random drinkables that day, but I was still thirsty for the entire day and the day after. It’s all very well for moving to be a weird process, but it’s probably wiser to avoid making it exhausting at the same time.
Oh, and the move is why I’ve not posted in a few days. Utilities is one of those other weird parts of moving – some things, like water, can be connected immediately; electricity and internet are two things that can be delayed unless properly arranged long ahead of schedule. Cold showers for the first week? Plan further ahead next time!