If moving was a person, I'd give it the finger*

Ever since I was 18, I've moved at least once a year, every single year. That means I have packed up stuff, moved stuff from Old Residence to New Residence, unpacked stuff and attempted to decorate New Residence with said stuff. When I first moved to Chicago, all I had was 2 suitcases, a box, and a Tweety head pillow (that's right...a pillow in the shape of Tweety's head. Got a problem with that, punk?!?). Six years later (despite having lost my Tweety head pillow somewhere in Indiana), I have accumulated way too much crap.

So now it's time to move again. ::Sigh::

I've mostly avoided packing for the last couple of weekends because of my re-discovery of a favorite childhood hobby: napping. Since the beginning of college until a couple of months ago, my naps taken could probably be counted on two hands, I shit thee not. Apparently, I'm regressing into childhood because I waste away perfectly lovely weekend afternoons dozing on my couch or my bed. Each time, I wake up, look around my messy, stuff-filled room, think "Wow, I have a lot of crap to pack...a LOT of crap!", and then roll over to nap for another hour.

Besides my recent napping addiction, I guess it doesn't really help that I actually keep accumulating books (I finally got the Ben Franklin biography by Walter Isaacson! Yesss...I am a dork!). Oh, and the fact that I'm very attached to some of my, er, unnecessary possessions is not making the process any easier (Q: Do I really need a Hello Kitty teacup alarm clock, or a Hello Kitty tissue box cover? A: Yes.). My only consolation this time around is that there is some sort of permanency about moving - my worldly possessions will be at my parents' house in Jersey. Technically, I can just keep my stuff there for the rest of my life. I just have to make sure that they don't sell their house...ever.

If the moving process was personified into some human form, I would seriously flip the bird to that mofo...or maybe just do it behind his/her back in my typically passive aggressive manner. Hee. OK, as demonstrated by the paragraphs above, I know that my hatred of moving is mostly a result of my being a lazy packrat bastard, but I'm banking on a little sympathy from others here! Anybody? Anybody?!?

Is there any abstract or inanimate object/process that you would lay the smackdown to? After moving, I vote laundry and German Dativ.

Damn you, moving, laundry and Dativ. DAMN YOU.



* I realize that this post violates my original pledge that I would not use this forum as an opportunity to complain, but I plead a little sympathy for the devil here. Does anyone really like moving?!?