This weekend, Drew and I learned that everything we own in the world fits into about 900 boxes and takes approximately 7 hours to move the 1.2 miles from central West Hollywood to eastern West Hollywood. Based on my own rough estimate, unpacking should take about 19 years from this point. So expect your invitations to our housewarming to arrive in July, 2024!

Overall, the move went really well. We looked at a lot of different moving companies, but based on a friend’s recommendation, we used a company we had never heard of before. It’s an organization that rehabilitates ex-convicts and helps them become productive, self-sufficient members of society. The reason we hadn’t heard of them is that they rely entirely on word of mouth to drum up business. Since that’s the case, here goes…

If you’re moving, I highly recommend the Delancey Street Foundation.

The movers were courteous, hard-working, efficient, showed up on time, and the only thing they broke was a hearty sweat. Basically, they were all the things movers should be but which very few of them actually are. They even inspired us a little by telling us about their organization. They’re based in a converted hotel, where about 200 members live together and have barbecues, play games and learn trades. It’s like an ex-con summer camp. And there’s something refreshing about a moving company that tells you up front that they’re crooks. (Rimshot, please.)

Sure, we had also considered handling the move ourselves and recruiting our friends to help us load up a U-HAUL with our crap. But if you’re on our short list of friends with muscles and you’ve seen our couch (and the narrow staircases in our apartment building), then I’m sure you are grateful that we didn’t resort to that.

A lot about moving and homeownership – and just being an adult – is recognizing your limitations. Therefore, along with the fact that I’m not capable of moving large pieces of furniture myself or of asking my friends to do it on my behalf, here are a few other things I’ve learned in the last few weeks that I can and can’t do.

I CAN apply contact paper to drawers and shelves.

I CAN’T do it without it being full of creases and bubbles.

I CAN replace a phone jack.

I CAN’T get that quiet-but-infuriating background static to go away.

I CAN replace an electrical outlet.

I CAN’T feel confident enough that I’ve done it correctly that I don’t need to call an electrician to come in and check it so I don’t end up burning the building down in an electrical fire.

I CAN install a new doorknob.

I CAN’T figure out how to adjust the door so that the clasp doesn’t scrape the wall when we close the door… Or make the doorknob tight enough so that it doesn’t wiggle whenever you hold it.

I CAN stain that unfinished wood key box I bought at IKEA.

I CAN’T bear the thought of putting that ugly P.O.S. up on my wall.

I CAN unpack boxes.

I CAN’T finish unpacking. No matter how much I unpack, there are always more boxes. Boxes, boxes, boxes!!!!

I CAN operate the Jacuzzi tub that came with the condo and take a long, relaxing bath.

I CAN’T relax.

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