Moving, Muppet Babies and Purging Your Facebook Friends

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What is it about moving that sucks so bad? Oh wait, everything.

This weekend we helped my father-in-law pack and move his apartment near Virginia Beach. It's not that he was unprepared to move or didn't have a plan, or anything else. Moving just sucks and I have done my fair share. I have move one time (actually twice in 2008) every year for approximately 9 years.

One would think that with all my experiences with moving, I might enjoy it or be proficient in the science of it. One would be wrong on both counts. Moving, or even helping someone move is painful, stressful and sweaty work. It absolutely brings out the worst in me. I hate a mess and disorder makes me a grouch! Not to mention, packing away someone else's stuff is nothing short of awkward. It puts you in situations like, "sure I'll pack your flight simulator and wireless walky-talky headsets." Then you find yourself deleting this person from facebook and cell phones because you can't believe how WEIRD they are. If I hadn't helped you move, we'd still be friends. Such a senseless loss...

But I suppose being weird is no real reason to cut someone out of your life (although creating a little healthy distance between you and your bizarre-o buddy might be a good idea). We all have our weird stuff! I admit to owning a collection of old 80's happy meal toys. I don't have them at my place, they are with my Mom and Dad and I will not allow them to be discarded. Somewhere in my mind, that McNugget dressed like Crocodile Dundee has real value and should not be disposed of. A little irrational, I know.

Hey, in my defense, my nieces and nephews love to play with them in the bathtub though they have no idea about these weird characters I keep naming off. Fozzy Bear? Miss Piggy? Gonzo? I'm thinking, "come on, they're the Muppet Babies! They're classic treasures! Kids today... If the character doesn't have their own iphone, they're not cool." Then I promptly call myself an old curmudgeon.

I'm sure a day will come, maybe soon, maybe in the future, when I part with some of the knick-knacks of my childhood. Perhaps I will simply tire of them or perhaps I will lose so many acquaintances by asking their help in moving them in the next few years (because I'm sure I'll be moving more than once), that I'll be forced to be rid of them. Either way... moving sucks!