“The way I see it, every man is an island. But the great thing is, there’s never been a better time in history to be an island. Even fifty years ago, for instance, they didn’t have daytime TV, or videos, or CD’s or home espresso makers, or glossy magazines with questionnaires about how cool you were… Sure I was an island, but I was a pretty cool island. I was Ibiza.”
(About a Boy by Nick Hornby)
Moving is one of the worst things about being alive. It’s tedious to go through your bullshit and throw out the things you don’t need, but it’s cumbersome to carry the junk around if you don’t. If you’re just moving apartments, but not cities, it’s too easy to let yourself hold onto the bullshit and then when you move into your adorable new place, you can’t see it anymore for the obstruction of boxes.
There’s tension whenever roommates and/or landlords are involved, which is always. I go on the defensive, prepared at any moment for someone to scheme me out of my security deposit. I’ve had folders of screenshots prepared for the legal battle I am prepared to fight but never do.
You must part with the cute upstairs bedroom with a perfect view of your college town or the sweet spot in Venice, snagged by a former roommate who you haven’t spoken to in a year, but ran into at the Post Office last week. (It felt like the sort of thing that would happen at the end of a book or movie. Running into the old roommate is part of wrapping up the chapter.)
Getting rid of junk is only the beginning. There’s consolidating in boxes, disassembling furniture and running your Facebook marketplace like a tax-evading small business. You wonder whether or not to toss the surplus tubes of toothpaste and Aquaphor that would be cheaper to repurchase but feel wasteful to toss.
I grew up in a household with a compost bin and a mother who sent us monthly water-use charts. Waste feels sacrilegious to me even when the effort devoted to preventing it defies reason. For example, the water cost of rinsing a jar to recycle it is probably more than the benefit of recycling, but chucking a glass jar in the trash feels wrong. Who knows if the recycling bin actually stays separated? But like a young, lapsed Catholic doing prayers before bed out of habit / fear of being smote, I’ll keep recycling just in case.
Then there are the cost considerations of moving. Neither math nor financial responsibility are my strong suit, so I’m suffering real blows in this department. Years ago, I spent a summer in NYC for an internship and shipped my bedding. When I saw the shipping price, my eyes did that cartoon thing where they pop out of your head like slinkies. I promised to remind myself never to ship my bedding again. It would have been cheaper to buy everything new. Last weekend, I moved from LA to NYC and shipped my bedding again. Fool me twice, shame on me, but I do love my out-of-production pillows, and you already know how I feel about throwing things out that are perfectly usable.
But I’m not here to hem and haw about moving. It sucks in a major way, and we all know that. What I’m here to talk about is how badly I need other people and how good it feels to have people in my life who answer the call.
My mom came to LA to help with the sorting, disposal and transportation of my bullshit. When she showed up at my apartment, I would have collapsed into her arms and said, “Thank god you’re here. I literally could not do this without you." But there was no time.
The night I spent in LA after my bed was sold, my mom and I stayed in the room of a friend who was out of town. I luxuriated in the good shower products (more on the bliss of using someone else’s shower coming soon) and slept soundly in the site of so many excellent LA slumbys. At around one in the morning, another friend who doesn’t live in this apartment busted in the door to take a shower. Her boyfriend lives downstairs, but the shower upstairs is better. These products are excellent – trust me. Our communal use of a friend’s bedroom, who wasn’t even in town to oversee it, felt emblematic of my time in LA and the types of people I befriended. None of us is big on boundaries. It feels familial and good to have people you can rely on.
I hopped on a red eye with three suitcases and a backpack and arrived at JFK at the crack of dawn. Upon arrival at the new apartment, there was my old roommate and best friend who is becoming my roommate again. She helped me carry my suitcases up five flights of stairs. She did not think this was a big deal. I had been dreading it for weeks and considered calling a number I saw on a flyer the last time I was in New York that said, “Need help moving something heavy?” but I Googled the number and the internet said he was a scammer.
[If I may go on a tangent, I was mostly discerning during my FB marketplace dealings, except for the sale of my bed, during which I went back and forth with a woman all day about her son who was starting college and would be using the bed, her husband who should be done with work around 6:30PM and the other items she would happily take for free – my bedside lamp and a few dozen hangers, but not the bed skirt. At the end of the day, with no word from my new pal, I took a look at her profile to find that she had one friend and one photo. The woman, whoever she was, did not look old enough to have a son in college. I am still not sure what this person got out of their scam -- no payment information or address was shared -- but if my identity is stolen in the next few months, then we have our lead.]
I also had a friend text me the day I arrived in New York offering a helping hand. I will be cashing this favor in when the overpriced FedEx haul arrives. She’s bringing her French bulldog’s stroller for package transport. I couldn’t be more pleased.
The belief that moving is one of the worst things about being alive is one that I hold strongly, but the gestures of goodwill that I have received over the past week are putting up a fight. And if anyone smart wants to make an online calculator for analyzing the price of shipping something you already have vs. buying it new, I would welcome that. Chat was no help. Unlike my exceptional friends.
WELCOME TO NEW YORK !!!!!