Hidy ho, neighbor

There is a strong chance the next time I sit down to write my Happy Trails column, I’ll do it from a different place (and if not the next Happy Trails, then the one after that, for sure). Because within the next couple weeks, my wife and I will move into our new home. And you and I (by “you” I mean Sun City) are going to be neighbors. It’s true. I’m about as close to Sun City as I can get without living in it.

After 11 years of waiting, two-and-a-half years of active searching, thousands (seriously, thousands) of Internet searches, dozens and dozens of home visits, and four failed home buys that spanned eight months, we’re buying a home in Lion’s Chase subdivision, which borders Sun City. And we couldn’t be happier to be your neighbor.

But before we can tip our heads over the fence for an afternoon hello, my wife and I are embarking on a different journey: The Move.

Packing prep

When you’ve lived somewhere for 11 years, every day avoiding situations where you might open up Pandora’s Box, packing lets you know there was no need to be afraid of opening Pandora’s Box, because you were living in it all along.

The moment you open that first cupboard or dresser drawer with the intent to move it for good, horrors you never knew you owned come flinging out: rolls of tape left over from when? 1975? Jogging shorts whose elastic waistband has literally disintegrated (maybe because you DON’T jog, which is also why you might not fit in those jogging shorts anymore).

Packing

They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. The same could be said for packing. You and your spouse start by saying, “Okay, we’re going to keep this organized.” You have your permanent markers, box tape, tissue or newspaper (which we fortunately have plenty of). You’re ready. Nothing can go wrong. Packing is something that lets you know organization is really just a theory rather than a practical and functioning law. You start with a box labeled TOOLS. In goes screwdrivers, clamps, drills, hammers, nails, and then you come across some nameless object that isn’t quite a tool but also isn’t a kitchen utensil. Frankly, you don’t even know what it is. You look at your tidy box of TOOLS and decide to downgrade it to MISCELLANEOUS SHED STUFF. And in goes that nameless object. You then rationalize your action by saying, I’ll figure out where it goes in the new house. Like it will make more sense there.

By the end of packing, you’re practically mad and are on the verge of forgoing the packing peanuts and simply dumping whole drawers into a box without a label.

Moving

Moving out boxes is relatively easy, the evils over and done with in the packing. Moving furniture and other big items is an evil unto itself and nothing short of an M.C. Escher drawing because you got everything in at some distant unmemorable point but now can’t seem to get it out. The couch just doesn’t bend that way. And no matter how many ways you tilt or angle it, the kitchen table isn’t going through that doorway.

When all is said and done by the time you get to your new home, you’re more like a refugee who packed in a hurry and fled than you are a person with his head high, telling himself he’s moving on to a better phase in his life. You’re exhausted. And then you realize, “Oh my God, I have to move all this stuff in.”

It’s enough to make you look at your spouse and say, “I hope you like this house because we’re living here forever.”

On a side note, when I mentioned we were neighbors of Sun City, I really meant it. My wife and I were at my parents’ house (in Sun City) last week and realized you can see our new house out their back window clearly. In fact, were there not wetlands between us and them, we could walk to their house quicker than driving there. This realization came with an immediate pro and con. Pro: It’s always nice to have family nearby. Let’s just say that can become useful when you have children or run out of paper towels at midnight. Con: We can no longer lie and say we’re not home.

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