Moving

I had become very comfortable with my last apartment, so I looked for a reason to loathe the landlady
and my 50-year old, next-door neighbor to justify moving to a new place. It was not difficult. I only had to think about them and realized I should congratulate myself for having lived there for years without developing some sort of heart disease.

That old home is actually nice, strategically located (walking distance from the highway, where I could get buses, jeeps, and cabs), and peaceful. Neighbors would go about their own businesses, and in fact, I rarely saw any of them. The problem was I had no problems, so I left.  Staying in a place for some time and actually loving it makes me uneasy. It is worse than the unease I feel with my next-door neighbor's moans while having sex with whomever she picked up on the street. Or my landlady's gossips about how the couple in unit A have each of their own families making the place their secret love nest.

My new home is as good as the previous one. It's quiet, clean, spacious and the neighbors seem friendly (one of them even gave me sticky rice the day after the move). It is a bit far from the city, but that’s fine, since I love the suburbs anyway. In short, it’s very much like the other one I just left only, it is a new home. Plus, it has a place for drying the laundry. I could create division between the living and the dining areas. There’s a huge mango tree nearby, and a bunch of other trees around. The wind is much cooler and does not carry a lot of dust, which could be a disadvantage as dusting is now one thing off the list of my regular chores. But, there is a front yard that I could sweep every morning. I am not sure I should like doing that, but that could keep me busy from time to time. Most important of all, I could turn the music up without worrying about whether I am already giving my neighbors free treats or they giving me headache with…this is a scary thought…Bob Marley.

Moving is not easy, however. If it were, I would be doing it every week! First, you got to find a way to make staying at your current place unthinkable. If you are lucky, a neighbor or your landlady could help. Then, you find a place that’s perfect for the next two or three years, preferably, a place that’s got a veranda for morning coffee.

Then, you pack. Packing takes days, but this is fun. When I pack for a move, I get to read old letters, diaries, and find souvenirs that I have not seen for ages. Like a letter from mother a decade ago when I was still in university. In the letter, she told me not to do drugs or to join activist rallies and to always politely refuse food from strangers (lest I would be poisoned by people practicing witchcraft). I miss her. And then, there’s a diary entry that details how I could save the world from imploding on its own stupidity. And a souvenir- a key chain- I got from my first trip out of the city, a beach down south I would never want to go back to. So, all these can drag the packing, and if I were you, I'd start weeks before the move.

The move itself is tiring with all the heavy stuff you have to carry. Last weekend, there was only me, two guys from the moving company, and then a friend loading and unloading my stuff to and from the truck.

Then, there’s the unpacking and arranging everything, which could take days, as well. It will be
difficult if your stuff does not go well with the new place’s interior layout. Nonetheless, this could be an opportunity for you to put your interior design skills to good use.

In spite of the hassle, I still move. There is nothing like the excitement that I get when I know I would be moving to a new home. It is another opportunity to start, to be challenged and to shatter my comfort zone. Very much like when I hike or travel. Though I usually have an idea about the new place, most of it will be a mystery till I finally move in. Who knows what kind of adventure is in store for me there.

Monotony being my worst enemy, I find ways to break it. There are different ways to avoid life’s worst tragedy of having today and tomorrow the same as yesterday or any other day. I either travel, get a haircut, grow a beard, get a tattoo at a village up north that takes 16 hours to get to or simply go running.

And when all else fails, I think of my landlady’s ugly nose, pack up and leave.