I don't ever want to move again.
'Moving' was originally one of Dante's levels of Hell, but it lost its standing when the Box was invented.
Hoorah for Boxes.
Yet even with the invention of the box, moving's a real bitch. The kind of bitch that you wanna slap for being so unruly, but you know that your probabtion officer would be all over you if you got caught.
I dunno either. Apologies.
A suggestion for all of you who may be making the decision to move sometime in the near future...
Get a truck. Preferably a truck with a tailgate that opens. A Dodge Spirit may look roomy, but you won't be able to fit a twin sized bed in it, let alone a sleeper sofa.
Don't even bother using a Honda Civic for any sort of moving purposes as "Honda" is Japanese for "Small Car That You Cannot Fit Anything In Except Human Bodies In A Sitting Position."
Oh yeah, and make sure that you have alot of boxes. For a one bedroom apartment, you're going to need about 25-30.
It's true. You'll want to get more than 10. Yes, I understand that it's a small apartment. I understand that you don't have alot of stuff.
I also understand that you usually bullshit yourself. Get more boxes, dammit. Sure, you could just pack the ten boxes you've got, go to your new place, unpack them, and then return to your apartment to repack the boxes.
You could also wear thong underwear while doing a marathon.
Either way, your ass is going to regret it.
Believe me I know. I know because it happened to me.
It happened to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Oh dear God: Please don't make me have to move for at least another three years. And if I do have to move, please let it be because I found a bag of money that will enable me to hire other people to pack up my shit and drive it to my delux apartment in the sky. Thank you.