Over the course of many moves during my lifetime, I’ve learned each one comes with at least one challenge. I was hoping to avoid any challenges in moving from an apartment in Plover my family and I have lived in for the last three years to a new house we built in Stevens Point. I should have known better.
Things went well at first, as one advantage into moving into an unoccupied home is you don’t have to wait until the previous tenants get out, which meant we were able to move items over to the house over the course of more than a month, easing the burden we had to bear for the big moving day on Thursday, June 9. And with the help of some friends, we were able to clear out our garage and a storage unit in May.
Moving day seemed to go well, too. It was just my wife, Jenny, and me, and a truck and trailer lent to us by our friends. We emptied out nearly all the big items in our apartment and had it unloaded in our house by 11 a.m. We figured the remaining stuff would go over in the next load.
Almost all of it did, starting with our washer and dryer. While Jenny was able to help me carry out and unload all other big items, the washer and dryer were too heavy. So we did so in short bursts in which we lifted it one or two inches off the ground and as far as possible. Going down stairs, we relied mainly on gravity as we banged down from one step to the next.
After unloading them in the garage, we left them there until a friend could help me carry them in. Although I’m not mechanically inclined, I was able to figure out how to hook them up, much to my delight.
It wasn’t until we used the washer that we discovered all was not well. A crack in the bottom of the washer – one that probably occurred during the move – caused water to spill out onto the floor, as well as my heart in hope of completing a perfect move.
The washer was eight years old, so I wasn’t completely upset we had broken it. We knew the lifespan on these things didn’t exceed much longer. I was more upset about going through the hassle of moving it, only to have it mean nothing. It’s worse than writing an article, not saving it and having the power go out as you are about to complete it. Any journalist who says this has never happened to him or her probably isn’t telling the truth.
We bought a new washer later that day, much to Jenny’s pleasure since it was a front-loader she’s always wanted. I was satisfied knowing she didn’t need a matching dryer.
The other challenge occurred both before and after the move: finding, and then installing, a mailbox.
As long as I’ve been living on my own, I’ve never owned a mailbox. It’s always been apartment mailboxes or post office boxes.
For months, we shopped for a mailbox. We liked some of them, but couldn’t fathom spending $80 or more just for the box. For that price, it should pay the bills it’s mainly used for.
After moving and knowing we needed to install one soon, we decided to go with a less expensive one, even if it didn’t have the look we wanted.
Installing it over the weekend had its own challenge: bedrock. We live in a rocky area, and the first hole I started to dig ended when I encountered a large rock halfway down. Not wanting to bother with the hassle of digging around it, I started over. Although I didn’t encounter any big rocks, I met enough smaller ones that the process took a lot longer and was much messier than I anticipated.
In the larger picture, those challenges weren’t horrible. But we’re not done, yet. We still have pictures to hang on the walls. That’s never fun.
****
Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, June 17, 2011.
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Life can have habit of taking some people many places to live
While some people may claim one city or town as the only place they’ve ever resided, others may have a long list. I am one of those fortunate, or unfortunate, people, depending on how you look at it.
While I was born in Wild Rose, my parents originally lived in Wautoma. During my toddler years, a job took them to Peshtigo and then Oconto.
The only thing I remember about Peshtigo was being in the car when my parents brought my younger sister, Kelly, home from the hospital. I have quite a few Oconto memories, with one of the earliest being a time when I sat on the side of the road throwing rocks at vehicles passing by, much to the dismay of a local police officer and then my parents.
In kindergarten, we moved back to Wautoma, where we stayed until I completed fifth grade, although we lived in four different rural locations during those years.
I spent my junior high years in Neshkoro, a town I had already been familiar with because my dad worked there and it was where I was enlisted in Boy Scouts. The school was so small that two grades shared a classroom and teacher.
At the end of eighth grade, we moved to Berlin, where I spent my high school years. While I liked Berlin, I never felt like I was part of the community or the school; probably because I didn’t share the experiences growing up there my classmates had.
So, I was happy to move to Ripon after high school to attend college, although I came back to Berlin often for a job and during the summers.
With no real job prospects after college graduation, I got an apartment in Oshkosh, mainly because I wanted to live in a bigger city than the ones I had lived in growing up. I lived in Oshkosh for only one summer, though, as a job as news editor of the Waushara Argus took me back to Wautoma that September.
I lived in Wautoma for five years until proposing to my future wife, Jenny. For some reason neither of us can really figure out, we decided to get an apartment together in Ripon, where we lived for one year. Hating the drive, we moved to Redgranite, home of the state rock (Funny story: A friend’s brother once asked, “What is the state rock?” upon entering the village and seeing a sign that said “Home of the State Rock.”).
We chose Redgranite because it was a point that cut down both of our commutes – Jenny to Oshkosh for school and me to Wautoma for work. It was a weak reason, though, because neither of us cared for the village.
Fortunately, one year later and shortly after getting married, we bought our first house, in Wautoma of course, in 2003. We loved the house and thought we’d live out our lives there.
But life is funny, as a golden job opportunity for Jenny at Marshfield Clinic was too good to pass up. So, we put our house up for sale. It took more than a year to sell, during which time I found a job at The Gazette and in which we commuted from Wautoma to Marshfield and Stevens Point, often together.
When we finally sold our house, we decided to get an apartment in Plover, temporarily for one year, as we looked in depth at permanent options.
That year extended to three years, but in two weeks our stint in Plover will end when we move to a new home on the north side of Stevens Point.
I’ve made a lot of friends and learned many things by living in so many places. I would love to definitely say the rest of my life will be spent in one location, learning about the benefits and negatives of stationary life, but I’ve learned enough from my nomadic lifestyle to know that may not be the case. You never know where life may take you.
In my case, probably back to Wautoma. It seems to draw me back enough.
****
Orginally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, May 27, 2011.
While I was born in Wild Rose, my parents originally lived in Wautoma. During my toddler years, a job took them to Peshtigo and then Oconto.
The only thing I remember about Peshtigo was being in the car when my parents brought my younger sister, Kelly, home from the hospital. I have quite a few Oconto memories, with one of the earliest being a time when I sat on the side of the road throwing rocks at vehicles passing by, much to the dismay of a local police officer and then my parents.
In kindergarten, we moved back to Wautoma, where we stayed until I completed fifth grade, although we lived in four different rural locations during those years.
I spent my junior high years in Neshkoro, a town I had already been familiar with because my dad worked there and it was where I was enlisted in Boy Scouts. The school was so small that two grades shared a classroom and teacher.
At the end of eighth grade, we moved to Berlin, where I spent my high school years. While I liked Berlin, I never felt like I was part of the community or the school; probably because I didn’t share the experiences growing up there my classmates had.
So, I was happy to move to Ripon after high school to attend college, although I came back to Berlin often for a job and during the summers.
With no real job prospects after college graduation, I got an apartment in Oshkosh, mainly because I wanted to live in a bigger city than the ones I had lived in growing up. I lived in Oshkosh for only one summer, though, as a job as news editor of the Waushara Argus took me back to Wautoma that September.
I lived in Wautoma for five years until proposing to my future wife, Jenny. For some reason neither of us can really figure out, we decided to get an apartment together in Ripon, where we lived for one year. Hating the drive, we moved to Redgranite, home of the state rock (Funny story: A friend’s brother once asked, “What is the state rock?” upon entering the village and seeing a sign that said “Home of the State Rock.”).
We chose Redgranite because it was a point that cut down both of our commutes – Jenny to Oshkosh for school and me to Wautoma for work. It was a weak reason, though, because neither of us cared for the village.
Fortunately, one year later and shortly after getting married, we bought our first house, in Wautoma of course, in 2003. We loved the house and thought we’d live out our lives there.
But life is funny, as a golden job opportunity for Jenny at Marshfield Clinic was too good to pass up. So, we put our house up for sale. It took more than a year to sell, during which time I found a job at The Gazette and in which we commuted from Wautoma to Marshfield and Stevens Point, often together.
When we finally sold our house, we decided to get an apartment in Plover, temporarily for one year, as we looked in depth at permanent options.
That year extended to three years, but in two weeks our stint in Plover will end when we move to a new home on the north side of Stevens Point.
I’ve made a lot of friends and learned many things by living in so many places. I would love to definitely say the rest of my life will be spent in one location, learning about the benefits and negatives of stationary life, but I’ve learned enough from my nomadic lifestyle to know that may not be the case. You never know where life may take you.
In my case, probably back to Wautoma. It seems to draw me back enough.
****
Orginally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, May 27, 2011.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Moving is task no one enjoys
Moving is something nobody enjoys, although I’m beginning to think that I do since I’ve done it more than 15 times in my lifetime.
No, I’m not a nomad or Cane from “Kung Fu,” wandering the Earth. I moved a lot with my family as a kid, and since graduating from college 10 years ago I’ve lived in apartments in four cities before settling down, getting married and buying my first home in Wautoma.
After more than a year of trying, my wife and I finally sold that home last week to move to Plover in order to be closer to our jobs. We loved our house, and selling it was one of the hardest things we’ve ever had to do, although we know in the long run it will be for the better, especially since fuel costs are rising quicker than the balloons that whisked the priest away two weeks ago.
My wife and I decided to move to an apartment for a year or two while we continue to search for the perfect house in our price range or a lot of land to eventually build a home.
Moving from a two-story, four-bedroom home on a double lot complete with a garage and a storage shed into a two-bedroom apartment is not an easy task. Even though we are fairly young, we accumulated a lot of stuff over the years, most of which we hardly ever used. To rid ourselves of some of this stuff, we held a rummage sale prior to moving.
We’ve held rummage sales on an almost annual basis, but this one was the mother of all rummage sales. You name it and we had it. To make sure we didn’t have any rummage sale leftovers, we put prices on everything to make sure it sold.
The few items left at the end of the two-day sale we put on the curb with a sign that said “free.” Although these leftovers seemed like junk, which is probably why they didn’t sell, the word “free” is a magnet that quickly drew people to forage through our pile, leaving just a few things for the garbage collector. One person’s junk is another person’s treasure, some old adage says, although I could revise it to say one family’s junk is many people’s treasures.
Selling items we no longer needed wasn’t enough to squeeze us into an apartment, though. We had to rent a 10’x15’ storage unit and determine which items we wanted to keep there. Some of these decisions were easy, but others were a little more difficult, especially when my wife and I differed on opinions.
For example, I thought we should bring our camping supplies to the apartment, as I hope to go camping this year, but my wife thought that would take up space we didn’t have. She correctly determined that we would get the camping equipment out of storage when we wanted to go.
Filling up the storage space was easy, and I thought that by doing so we would be left with the apartment essentials on moving day, requiring just one U-Haul load in our move. I was wrong. We filled the 17-foot U-Haul up and still had a lot left. This extra stuff required multiple trips back and forth in several vehicles to empty the house.
Loading the U-Haul was surprisingly easy, although unloading it was tough. Why? Because we wanted an upper apartment, which had a little more space.
After four years of living in a house, life in an apartment is an adjustment, especially since we now have a kid who is used to jumping around, yelling and doing things he had free roam to do in our own house. My wife is convinced the neighbors are going to start a petition and have us kicked out of the apartment, but I think their barking dogs puts us all on equal ground.
We’re settled in now, but we’re not getting too comfortable. We know at least one more move looms in our future. We’re already budgeting for Two Guys and a Truck, so we can watch from the sideline as other people do the grunt work. Maybe I’ll direct them, seeing as I have enough experience doing their job.
No, I’m not a nomad or Cane from “Kung Fu,” wandering the Earth. I moved a lot with my family as a kid, and since graduating from college 10 years ago I’ve lived in apartments in four cities before settling down, getting married and buying my first home in Wautoma.
After more than a year of trying, my wife and I finally sold that home last week to move to Plover in order to be closer to our jobs. We loved our house, and selling it was one of the hardest things we’ve ever had to do, although we know in the long run it will be for the better, especially since fuel costs are rising quicker than the balloons that whisked the priest away two weeks ago.
My wife and I decided to move to an apartment for a year or two while we continue to search for the perfect house in our price range or a lot of land to eventually build a home.
Moving from a two-story, four-bedroom home on a double lot complete with a garage and a storage shed into a two-bedroom apartment is not an easy task. Even though we are fairly young, we accumulated a lot of stuff over the years, most of which we hardly ever used. To rid ourselves of some of this stuff, we held a rummage sale prior to moving.
We’ve held rummage sales on an almost annual basis, but this one was the mother of all rummage sales. You name it and we had it. To make sure we didn’t have any rummage sale leftovers, we put prices on everything to make sure it sold.
The few items left at the end of the two-day sale we put on the curb with a sign that said “free.” Although these leftovers seemed like junk, which is probably why they didn’t sell, the word “free” is a magnet that quickly drew people to forage through our pile, leaving just a few things for the garbage collector. One person’s junk is another person’s treasure, some old adage says, although I could revise it to say one family’s junk is many people’s treasures.
Selling items we no longer needed wasn’t enough to squeeze us into an apartment, though. We had to rent a 10’x15’ storage unit and determine which items we wanted to keep there. Some of these decisions were easy, but others were a little more difficult, especially when my wife and I differed on opinions.
For example, I thought we should bring our camping supplies to the apartment, as I hope to go camping this year, but my wife thought that would take up space we didn’t have. She correctly determined that we would get the camping equipment out of storage when we wanted to go.
Filling up the storage space was easy, and I thought that by doing so we would be left with the apartment essentials on moving day, requiring just one U-Haul load in our move. I was wrong. We filled the 17-foot U-Haul up and still had a lot left. This extra stuff required multiple trips back and forth in several vehicles to empty the house.
Loading the U-Haul was surprisingly easy, although unloading it was tough. Why? Because we wanted an upper apartment, which had a little more space.
After four years of living in a house, life in an apartment is an adjustment, especially since we now have a kid who is used to jumping around, yelling and doing things he had free roam to do in our own house. My wife is convinced the neighbors are going to start a petition and have us kicked out of the apartment, but I think their barking dogs puts us all on equal ground.
We’re settled in now, but we’re not getting too comfortable. We know at least one more move looms in our future. We’re already budgeting for Two Guys and a Truck, so we can watch from the sideline as other people do the grunt work. Maybe I’ll direct them, seeing as I have enough experience doing their job.
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