March 13, 2008
Originally published July 19, 2003
When I moved out of my parent's house to live on my own, I hauled everything I took with me in the back seat of a 1968 Javelin. When I moved to Athens a couple of years later, I hauled everything in the same car. It took two trips to bring everything back a year and a half later.
When I moved out of my apartment in Savannah two years later, three friends with pickup trucks were needed to haul all the crap I had accumulated. I got married, got divorced and left that house with some clothes, a stereo and a 1964 Martin D-28 guitar.
I was right back where I started. I could haul all of my shit in one trip.
I met the BC and we bought a home together. We moved everything from her place to the new abode in one trip with a small Ryder rent-a-truck. Two years later, we moved to Effingham and I made TWO trips in a 28' U-Haul to transfer all of our belongings.
When we sold that house and moved to the mini-farm, we hired professionals to do the heavy lifting. It was just too much to handle by ourselves. By then, we had a lot of shit that wouldn't fit in the bed of a pickup truck.
I got divorced again and moved into the Crackerbox with two pickup loads of stuff, some of which remains unpacked in boxes in the garage. I was damn near back where I started again. I had to buy $4,000 worth of furniture and appliances just to make the place barely civilized.
Now I don't have room for all of the shit I have accumulated since then. How the hell does that happen?
All I know is, I never want to move again.
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