Seven Ways
that people decide to move house…
Moving is a wretched endeavor. A lamentable exercise in futility. Meticulously packing fragile items and labeling the boxes is not my idea of fun. I’d rather scratch my eyes with sandpaper and take a citrus bath. But, for some, the translocation of house and home is obligatory. Certain life events dictate that you put into crates that creepy doll collection you have had since third grade, or swathe that unsightly pint glass collection that should have been thrown out when you graduated college. Whether you are a minimalist of the highest order, or a filthy, hoarding dirtball, moving house is inevitable at some point.
So what are the reasons? Did you get a new cat that is allergic to the mice in your garden? Have you suddenly started to see ghosts at night? Did your home plunge from a coastal hillside into the majestic Pacific Ocean, despite the fact that every inspection you’ve ever had warned against buying said property? People will move for strange reasons, (and perhaps none as macabre as this.).
Here are Seven Ways that people decide to move house from least to most:
Hitch in the Giddy-up - Let’s face it: getting old is tough. The old hip/knee/ankle replacement surgery can put a serious damper on your bingo playing skills. So, when people have decreased mobility, or need assistance due to health or a disability, they’ll pul up stakes and move. Just watch out for the rascals at your heels.
The Working Man is a Sucker - Labor. Toil. Industry. Most of us have to do it, some are lucky not to. Employment is a major factor in one’s decision to nomadize. On this wise, if one suffers from a boss that is an utter wankpot, you need not devise a way to eliminate him or her and risk several years of incarceration. One can simply relocate to a land of fluffy self-esteem ensurers and crying rooms. There there, now.
Ya Done Got Learned - After years of using dad’s credit card for generic cigarettes and late night fast food binges, you’ve somehow managed to scrape together enough units to receive that glorious sheepskin that says you may or may not have gained a higher education. Whether you majored in Physics (F = MA, ‘nuff said) or Physical Graffiti (ahhh, Kashmir), it’s probably time to move on from sharing a one bedroom cottage with the rugby team.
Everyday is Saturday! - Let the good times roll, along with those meager Social Security checks. Now that you’ve retired, it’s time to go to dinner at 4:30, complain about ______ , and drive like a slow-motion psychopath. You should also probably move to Florida.
Multiplication - Your progeny could be the single most gratifying achievement, or your absolute worst decision you’ve ever made in your life. Whatever the result, the effect is that you’ll now need a room full of plastic crap, a daily cocktail, and a larger, more accommodating abode. Because you can’t get rid of them.
War of the Roses - Your wife has run off with her strapping pilates instructor who looks like a hirsute and bare-chested Viking warrior. The house just feels empty. Time to get a nasty, litigious divorce, and put a for sale sign out front and move to Ibiza.
Ball and Chain - The happiest day of your life has come and gone, the champagne flutes stashed away, and the beautiful journey of a shared life has charmingly begun. Exception: your weekly card game in the kitchen with your cigar-smoking, whiskey slugging mates is now verboten, and you can’t use your garage because it is full of boxes of bric a brac from the late eighties. It might be time to find a place with a man cave.
Bonus: I f you are not looking at the hyperlinks, you are denying yourself innumerable guilty pleasures.
bric a brac