The Lamest Treasure Hunt EVER

Just in case I haven't mentioned it, moving sucks. You take everything you own, which was (theoretically) laid out in logical places - well, not necessarily logical, but places that YOU put it and could find in a pinch to two hours tops - and pack it all into nondescript and often non-labeled boxes. Said boxes are then put through the "carry them out and load them onto a truck in no particular order" process, followed in quick succession by the "unload them ignoring all attempts at labeling and placing wherever convenient" step. At the end of a long, painful day all your worldly possessions are stacked/haphazardly thrown around an entirely new environment and you get the privilege of rearranging them for ...well let's go with the foreseeable future (which in my case is looking to even out to about 2 years).

And then comes the act of unpacking. As if finding places for everything in the new locale isn't bad enough - because, face it, you probably threw away/sold half of your furniture and storage with the ever popular "we need to replace X anyway" argument - you are forced to re-wash or re-launder all of it as appropriate before putting it away to be forgotten all over again. The sole exception being stuff the movers broke (which is a whole other rant) and books, which in my case my "helpful" fiance took care of all on his own. No. Book boxes do NOT count in your unpacking quota. That shit is cheating.

The only bright spot in the whole moving ordeal is finding stuff your forgot you owned. There is a certain pleasure in unrolling that newspaper clad shape and discovering, all over again, how awesome you are for having say... a "Mike Mussina practice ball back from when he was on the Orioles before he went to the Yankees and got all lame" ....or maybe ....handmade flutes from 6 different countries ...or even that sweet candle holder shaped like a deformed duck that you made for your mom in third grade. (Note that I am avowed anti-crafter and do not actually possess Item 3.)

Oh the elation! Look at that cool stuff you found!! Possibly you take said tchotchke and show it to spouse so that he can share in just how freakin' great you are for owning such an item. There's a happy place that builds in your tummy and you begin to think "WOW! Maybe this moving thing isn't so bad! Look at all this stuff I forgot I had!!" You rummage through the remaining boxes in search of additional testaments to what a cool person you are... for the next 10-15 minutes. Then it starts to sink in. Wait, I haven't needed or wanted this stuff for what? Two years? And where am I going to put it?

And wait... did I PAY someone to pack and move this? Holy crap! Is SuperCoolItemB worth $20 worth of packing materials and box? Hold on here... I'm excited about finding junk that I already own!!! Junk I already own and possibly don't want! The happy place is replaced by a sinking feeling of disappointment, possibly amplified by anger at yourself for being tricked into this false joy. You remember why you hated moving in the first place, maybe kick around some (hopefully now empty) packing paper in frustration and think to yourself ...moving sucks! Lamest. Treasure hunt. ever.