Moving is hard work.

You pack and hunt for a new place, and pack, and if you’re me, keep hunting for a new place.

If you’re lucky, you find a place you love. I did.

Once all of the packing is done, you’re homeless…rootless for a few days maybe. You set up an “office” on the bare living room floor.

In spite of all of the packing, you’re still surprised with the number of boxes the [awesome] movers deliver.

You stress about where everything will fit, and console yourself with a Seamless Web delivery from Dumont Burger, consumed while sitting atop one of 100 boxes.

When the movers leave you alone with all of your stuff, the amount of work ahead becomes apparent.

The awesome movers might give you flowers to soften the blow like mine did. Fingers crossed.

You might want to cry. Or surf the internet. Or nap (my favorite).

The clutter makes you feel like the star of an episode of Hoarders (minus 30-40 cats). You worry about having to sleep on the floor.

But you continue and the number of boxes shrinks. You make notes about things you need to buy, and piles of things you need to chuck.

When you start thinking “what am I going to do with all of this wine?” you laugh, realizing it’s a great problem to have.

It’s messy, but I’m already starting to feel at home. Let’s see what I can do with a three-day weekend.