The majority of last weekend was spent packing, stuffing, cleaning, scrubbing, carrying, lugging, schlepping and climbing. Yes, I finally moved apartments, down four flights of stairs and up five more, several times over. It was not fun, my friends. I can only imagine what the agony of that episode would have been if I owned more material goods, like furniture, for instance.
Now I am most certain that moving – no matter how few things you own, how conveniently located your apartment, or how well you hit it off with your new roommate – is the least thrilling part of living in this little metropolis.