Step 1: Find somewhere else to live (yay, exciting!)
Step 2: Apply for tenancy, get the go ahead
Step 3: Plan the move, create a spreadsheet with a to-do list (geekery!)
Step 4: Do paperwork for exiting current apartment, redirecting mail, cutting off and connecting utilities, informing a gazillion organisations (each of these requires at least an hour of frustration)
Step 5: Co-ordinate and get quotes for moving, cleaning, carpet steaming, assess quotes and confirm availability with various service providers (this means multiple phone calls and call backs and shifting choices as the prices change and availability is confirmed, or not…)
Step 6: Get boxes… grossly underestimate how many I need because “I don’t have much stuff” (these are famous last words that will confound me over the next two weeks)
Step 7: Start packing in the most efficient and organised way
Step 8: Do more packing
Step 9: Where the fuck did all this stuff come from?!
Step 10: Find red wine (which I don’t even drink!) in the back of the pantry, drink red wine spritzers with ice (don’t judge me!), give up on packing for the day
Step 11: More packing, like, every day… stall and procrastinate consistently… get distracted by photo albums and pee buckets and cute notes in the bottom of bags and things that I should throw away but don’t
Step 12: Realise that I am a hoarder of boxes… realise also that my appalling memory means that any useful boxes are found only AFTER I have painstakingly packed whatever the boxes are for (champagne glasses, drinking glasses, speakers, coffee grinder etc). Swear a lot.
Step 14: Still packing… FFS!
Step 15: Whine and complain incessantly about how tedious it is. All my friends stop talking to me because they really can’t bear to hear about it anymore (selfish fuckers!)
Step 16: Want wine, but it’s all packed… Swear some more. Finish vodka in the freezer with mango-coconut natural ice things and pretend it’s a proper cocktail that doesn’t look like runny come. Get drunk.
Step 17: Yet more packing, careful organisation of boxes breaks down as I get more and more irritated with the entire process and find stuff and more stuff, the apartment gets crowded with boxes
Step whatever: Oh fuck it, chuck things randomly in whatever boxes happen to be handy and not yet full. Yes, that box contains my wok, some underwear, a sock, 3 spoons, a pillowcase and some soap
WHERE ARE MY MINIONS?!!!
Saving grace: Soon, I will be living at the beach!!