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In the last 10 years of my life, I’ve moved (at least) once a year (this is the eighth apartment in NY).  I hate moving.  The mere sight of cardboard boxes makes me shudder.  The sound of packing tape makes my skin crawl.  So, why do I keep doing it?  There is a variety of reasons, but one upside is that every time I move, it’s another chance to re-decorate.  Granted this move was less than smooth sailing (couch got ripped, mirror got cracked, rug got a perm…), I am finally home.  And who can complain about that?

1. Moving.
2. Making coffee only to realize you’re out of milk.
3. Naysayers.
4. That one scratchy, scraggly edge of a toenail that scrapes against the sheets all night.
5. People who do the right thing and then act like they did you a favor.  Um, thanks for being a decent human?

1. The undying support of loved ones.
2. Not having to share closet space.
3. The fact that Cafe Gitane has Kirs on the menu.
4. Grocery delivery.
5. Moving on.

Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be over here sitting on my nonexistent couch.

xx,

WhyDid