I couldn't tell you now how many times Rebecca and I have been involved in moving without sitting down and counting over the last ten years. A lot. That has given me some insight into the moving process - I wouldn't say we're pros or anything, but repetition has bred reflection. So here are the stages I find recognizable throughout our years of semi-nomadic life.
One.
Realizing that there is a need to move.
Two.
Seeking and finding a new apartment.
Three.
Packing, which is mostly procrastinating and thinking about packing, and then really packing at the very last minute. Some boxes are packing strategically at first, with labels and good intentions, and then as you pick up steam, you end up with random boxes you know you will hate yourself for later. The more notice one has in steps one and two, the better job you will do on step three.
Four.
Moving some of the stuff to the new place, but not all, so you now have stuff in two places, and you're not really sure which stuff is where. Also, the stuff that you wish were at the new place is never at the new place. You buy more cat food.
Five.
All of the stuff is at the new place, but you don't know where any of it is really, you don't know which box, you don't know where to put it, and life is hard right now. You are struggling to survive on takeout, once you can find a spoon, and your toiletries might still not be located. So then you buy new deodorant.
Six.
You you have the essentials unpacked (those of you who have moved a lot of times feel me on this one). You know where there is a spoon, and a couple plates, and your soap, and a bottle of some kind of shampoo, which may not be your favorite shampoo, but it will get your hair clean. This is a dangerous stage. The risk of plateau is high. You are no longer going to starve, and your coworkers probably won't notice that your hygiene practices are subpar and with any luck, there will be something that pushes you into stage . . .
Seven.
In stage seven you have now on packed enough to be able to perform fairly simple household tasks, including preparing simple meals, bathing, including with your normal toiletries, and you may even have located an extra set of towels. The boxes have been shifted out of the bulk of the living area, furniture is in a somewhat workable arrangement, and that you are generally doing OK at this part. The risk of plateau here: exceedingly high. You are now functioning like an almost real adult (or as real an adult as you ever do). At this point what you need, what is really essential, to push you above the threshold, is the possibility of having company, or needing to make something complicated for some reason. The holidays may also serve. I'm somewhere around this stage hoping to head into . . .
Eight.
This is the stage where you are actually moved into your apartment. You have everything you intend to use for the next few months, things arranged, and it may almost feels like home at this point. Your cats are no longer panicking, and have mostly accepted your new environment. You have established a clear daily routine and can typically find the things you need. This stage is one that may or may not ever be attained, and those who manage it are to be commended.
Nine.
Nirvana. This is the stage when the walls are painted, the rugs are rolled out, the art is hung, you may have a established your own lighting, or additional power strips, or whatever the finishing touches are for you. Many people never achieve this status. Rebecca and I probably will not in this current apartment. We'll essentially be trying to do this step on the house while living in our apartment.
And I've accepted that.
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