Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Movecation Recommended

As a self-proclaimed moving expert, I will now update my moving advice to include the following:

"Never . . . "


"Always . . . take a vacation approximately 10 days before a big move. Your husband and your Realtor will be just fine."

You would be surprised at how capable your husband is in cleaning the house for a showing. He can make the bed, as it turns out. My self-worth took a small dip in finding out that I wasn't the only one who could clear the counters, turn on all the lights, and make the house look like it was a set from Roseanne after the Connors won the lottery, and make it look so effortless.

And since this is my 10th big move (and arguably the biggest one yet because it is coast to coast and involves flying a dog) I'm shocked to find out that if you ignore your Realtor's advice to meet all deadlines on paperwork and wait a few showings to clean the bug droppings out of the drawers, the world will not come to an end.

Speaking of vacations, look what I found in both hotels this trip, which I am totally in favor of:

Shampoo, conditioner and shower gel containers that you cannot physically, legally or spiritually take home in your suitcase. This removes a huge burden off my shoulders. You know how I love to talk about hotel shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, body lotion, soap and whether or not we should take it home.  I mean, think about it: If it was so great, why didn't you use it all when you were at the hotel? You brought your own good shampoo, but you take the little bottles home, where they sit in your closet pushing you one step closer to being a hoarder.

I'm downsizing in this move, so last week I went through my closet after making a speech to myself about freeing myself from material possessions, which included repeating quotes from the Dalai Lama and Rod McKuen. I came across two huge Ziploc bags of tiny hotel toiletries, which I had squirreled away in suitcases from hotels all over the United States, Europe and Great Britain. I had intended to donate them to a woman's shelter or something, but I kept missing Christmas. It seems no one really wants these tiny bottles. At least not at a seasonal convenient time for me. Not to mention the miniature sewing kits (with not enough thread to even sew on a goddamn button) and shower caps (not even worn by ghetto teens anymore).

These bags of personal cleanliness in miniature are gone. Gone, I tell you. If there isn't room in my new place for the foosball table, there certainly isn't room for soap that smells like a gas station bathroom air freshener and hand lotion with as much alcohol content as the Bloody Mary I had at the hotel breakfast buffet.

Although I wasn't home to start purging the house of nonsensical items in anticipation from our upcoming move, I did my part by not bringing home free toiletries from the hotels where I stayed.

Did I not say I was a moving expert?

If you like Diane's humorous take on moving, you'll love her book Home Sweet Homes: How Bundt Cakes, Bubble Wrap, and My Accent Helped Me Survive Nine Moves.

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