Both Oars In Concessions on the move

Jul 16, 2010

One would think, after relocating our household more than a dozen times in 22 years of marriage -ten involving moves to completely new communities- that we would be so good at moving that we could do it in our sleep. But every move has enough of its own peculiarities to keep even veteran movers from feeling settled about being unsettled. Sure, we have gotten exceptionally good at the packing part and the inevitable garage sale, but the psychological impact of moving does not fade much with experience. In fact, it seems to intensify along with the back pain!

However, not everything about moving is painful. From time to time, thanks to the necessity of repacking boxes left unopened from the previous move, the drudgery and emotional drain of moving can turn into a rejuvenating ride down memory lane. Random photographs of past family milestones pop up between books and inspire fond memories. In an instant, the otherwise emotionally charged air is cleared with a “Remember this?” and a memory-filled smile. 

What experience teaches you is to stretch these fleeting moments, not to rush them. 

Unlike our past moves, this one is happening in two stages. The household goods have taken up residence in a storage facility in Miami. It is a bit odd that we have found a place for our stuff before finding a home for ourselves.  But, thanks to the ubiquity of self-storage, a 20 billion dollar and growing industry, you can drop off your belongings at a climate controlled storage place most anywhere in the U.S. It is like taking your kid to college; you pull in the gates, unload, say good-bye and send checks monthly.

Although the storage unit had the same cubic space as our U-haul truck, it was quite a challenge to get the contents into the space, hence the peculiarity of this move. My theory is that the difficulty had something to do with moving from a horizontal to a vertical load. The tall storage space required stacking up three layers while the truck, which was longer than it was high, required only two layers. 

Once I got the knack of it, loading the storage unit became like playing with a soma cube —a childhood amusement I had forgotten. Several times, I had to step back, reassess and switch an item to maximize  space.I also had to stop and square up a section before building higher several times. But, slowly, the truck emptied and the space filled. Fortunately, I had several pieces of plywood and bed slats to make platforms between the layers. This was especially crucial to cap off the initial layer of furniture.

When we finished shoving the last mattress in and pushing the gate shut, I stepped back in admiration of the job well done. I thought it was an amazing feat. I marveled at the architecture and precision placement for the maximum utilization of every possible inch. I felt like I had scaled Everest. I came, I packed, I conquered the limitation of physical space. I was the Einstein of self-storage. I had completed the ultimate soma puzzle challenge.

My wife was less impressed. She had a look of a woman who had just seen all her worldly belongings put into a blender, swirled, and then exported into a sausage skin. As I crowed, she winced. It was tough to hear her reduce my accomplishment to naught with a single comment: “I thought we would be able to walk in and take things out from time to time.” But being a veteran of a dozen moves, I kept the thought “Not without a crowbar” to myself. I just listened. 

A few minutes later, I conceded to renting a second, auxiliary space that would allow for the more dignified storage of a few items my wife had signaled out as important to her sanity. These items were extricated and resettled into a more orderly space. Unfortunately, even this hallowed space had to be invaded by a few random items that were inadvertently left out of sight around the corner while we were packing the mega closet. She accepted the intrusion—just another sacrifice for mission and marriage.  

In the end, we all had to make concessions. No move is without its pains.