No, not moving in the sense of running or cycling, paddling with the current in a kayak — just changing domiciles, aka moving to a new house. I’ve now moved 7 times in the past 8 years, and I’m getting good at it.
Yes, the arrangements — calls to movers (Two Men and A Truck the last two times, worked out great); changing cable tv and Internet DSL (Cox Communications), turning off and one the utilities 9GRU), changing the address with the postal service, and so forth.
This morning, Saturday, was the big day; after 3 weeks of moving what I could, Sam helping me with some big stuff one day, the apartment was pretty much emptied out except for a chair, a sideboard, a couch, secretary, chest of drawers, and a bed. Oh yeah, and four boxes. The movers were scheduled to arrive between 8:30 and 9:00, and as I pulled in a parked at the apartment, I saw their truck as I got outta my car, at the crack of 8:30.
By 9:20 we were done (though I spent most of the rest of the day sorting things, putting clothes away, hanging pictures, arranging charger for my various things — an electric razor, a Kindle, a Macbook Air laptop, an iPhone.
So here I lay in bed tapping away at the laptop keyboard, wondering about what pictures I should take tomorrow to illustrate the move.