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Sulkiness re: move beginning... NOW.

http://www.eastvalleytribune.com/story/120083 -- house swap.
http://james-nicoll.livejournal.com/1311845.html -- Things under/not under the control of the average author.


So since hcolleen's new job is in Scottsdale, of all places, and our current apartment is on a really crappy bus line, moving is going to happen sooner or later, since it really won't work out long-term. *sigh* And since I am happy with my current roommates, and have no desire to recruit two new ones, and anyway the places they're looking at aren't too out of the way for my job, that means ... me moving too. I HATE MOVING. I don't feel that I've entirely unpacked from our most recent move, and then I wasn't entirely unpacked from the prior move either.

This one may be a little easier, as myrrhianna is planning on having actual movers involved, and I've been tidying up, organizing, and ditching assorted junk. It's still not going to be anyone's idea of fun.

So what's the big deal with moving?

In 1980, I was born. We lived in the log cabin that my parents built.
Sometime in the 1984-1986 range, we moved out of the cabin into the new house that my parents built. This process was relatively painless and slow, as the two buildings are directly adjacent, and there was a plan at one time to build a connecting door.
In 1998-9, I spent two semesters in the UAF dorms, but most of my stuff was still with my parents.
In 2000, my then-fiancé and I spent the summer in the cabin that my virtual aunt was renting. Again, most of my stuff was with my parents.
From there, we moved to Arizona in the fall of 2000.
I moved out of the Bachelor Apartment from Hell in early 2001, stopping briefly in an apartment that I shared with another random student, and into the two-bedroom apartment that I shared with Sis and the LF and everyone from April 2001 to February 2005. My parents started shipping my books.
In February 2005, I moved into the studio apartment.
In October 2007, I moved into the current apartment.

My life has not had a lot of moves. There has been sufficient time between each move to recover.

I HATE MOVING.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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