Notes on moving (again)

A bulletin from the thick of packing up all my stuff to move to a new home.

Here’s Finny getting rid to move to the beach four years ago.

Hello, hello friends:

How are you? I can officially say that I am smack in the thick of moving and here to report that it is a massive undertaking and I really don’t recommend it.

My kitchen table is covered in piles of serving platters and baskets (so many baskets), decorative items (the suncatcher I got at a glassblower in Vermont 30 years ago and all the small paintings I’ve been collecting for years), and clear plastic box filled with all of the papers from my final legal wrangling with my ex a few years ago.

On the other end, my new condo garage is lined with so many sets of shelves we pulled from the beach house that my daughter and I joked it felt like I was opening a store — albeit a really eclectic one. The black wires shelving is filled with snow shoes, Costco paper products and a litany of gardening supplies and decor including giant pre-lit twig orbs I had to have for the holidays from Terrain two houses ago and cannot part with.

I had a mover come to give me an estimate Friday morning who seemed dubious as I talked him through what I predicted that me and my kids would move vs. what he and his team would have to transfer. We went out to the shed where I pointed past the six bikes, stacks of beach chairs, and wall of shelving full of gardening detritus and pointed to some furniture in the back he’d need to move.

Then, standing down in the basement and looking out at the sea of plastic boxes still there from my last move filled with books, home decor and assorted sets of china, the mover — whose name is Tom — said, “You know, it’s a lot cheaper to get rid of it now than pay to move it.”

He probably was also taking into consideration the adjoining basement area with yet more shelves (stacked Le Crueset dutch ovens, giant roasting pans and parts from my 35-year-old Cuisinart that died in 2024) and the oversized workbench that would have given my late father a coronary to see all the tools he’d passed on to me scattered across the surface, along with flashlights and lightbulbs and Amazon boxes with items I has forgotten to return. A real hodgepodge of crap.

Tom the mover was conservative in his estimate, explaining he likes to be on the safe side so there are no surprises at the end, which I really appreciate. And he and his team had done my last move and for an unpleasant experience, they were super pleasant — so I hired him on the spot based on his excellent pricing and good vibes. And I also knew, based on previous moving experience, that despite having done ZERO prework to prepare for this move, we could quickly turn things around. My specialty is performing under pressure.

Beginning Friday afternoon, all through pretty late Saturday night, my two younger kids and I have been filling our trucks and the UHaul we rented on Saturday with all the stuff. Throughout the day yesterday, my daughter and I kept saying, “Tom will be so proud of us!” We moved all the porch furniture, all those plastic boxes with books and china and ever my two giant monsteras and fiddle leaf fig plants. All the old photo albums and videos/DVDs, stuff I’m still storing for kids (framed fraternity pictures and yearbooks). All of it, gone.

Today, I plan on moving as much kitchen stuff over as possible and then spend some time organizing all that stuff into its new home. I still need to figure out which cabinets will hold plates and glassware and which drawers will house my extensive Ziploc collection. But as this will be my fifth home as a grownup, I do know that it will all come together. Over time, I’ll start building the same muscle memory I did when I moved to the beach house and kept moving to my left at the sink to open a dishwasher that was now on the right. Same switcheroo for the garbage pull out. Just as I now move instictively right to grab and glass for my seltzer, I’ll slowly adjust to wherever those glasses will live in the new place.

I’ll keep you posted.

What I’m watching

Love Story (HULU)

Like every young woman working in Manhattan in the late 1980s and early 1990s, my dream was to hook up with JFK Jr. I mean, what red blooded American girl circa 1989 was immune to the man? He was handsome, smart and seemed to have a good personality. Not sure if he was a narcissist but if he was, EVEN BETTER (says 1989 me — 2026 me knows better).

The Traitors: Season 3 (Peacock)

Listen, I’m not a reality show person. Two Christmases ago, my daughter and I binged season one of the Real Housewives of New Jersey to understand the lore. Also, given we are from NJ, it felt like our constitutional duty. And while we spent many weeks and months after shouting or texting each other PROSTITUTION WHORE out of the blue, neither of us watched season two (I mean, don’t get me wrong, my girl is on the Love Island train, so not immune to the lure of reality trash).

My daughter happens to be the one who snagged me on Traitors. I watched an episode of the latest season with her a few weeks ago, and it was fun! Alan Cummings is an absolute queen and between his outfits, the way he trills words like “murder” and “evil” such flair, not to mention the Scottish castle that serves as the show’s background, Traitors is a real hoot.

The Pitt: Season 2 (HBO MAX)

I just love this show and it’s such a treat to come home after moving a zillion boxes and collapse on the couch and yell, “BABY JANE DOE” at my kids. I love that Dana is this season’s breakout star and that the show is just as good as last year.

Have a good week!

Guys, I don’t have the energy to do the usual, “Please like and follow and consider upgrading blah blah blah.” You know what to do. See you Friday.

xoAmy