One of my most dreaded chores is moving! Despite (or maybe because of) the many years of moving in our 23 years in the military, I dread the actual move!
I hate the preparation for the move, when I go through everything in the house and get rid of half of the stuff because we’ve outgrown it, we don’t need it anymore, it won’t fit in our new location, or just because we can’t take it with us. Moving means major downsizing because everything you move costs twice what it is worth to move, so you must be very sure it is worth it to move it!
--All grocery items automatically go—to neighbors, friends, whoever can use it. It doesn’t matter if you just bought it yesterday, it can’t go with you!
--All kitchen utensils go to a thrift shop too. This move, because we came with only what fit in our car, we had to buy a lot of essentials, toasters, mixers, cake pans, etc. Since I already have duplicates at home, I didn’t need to bring any of that home, so away they went to the nearby thrift store along with the sheets, comforter, plates, glasses, silverware, etc. that we had needed to live with for eight months.
I have to organize everything so when I arrive at the next location, everything is organized, instead of all mixed up like it is in the junk drawer before the move. This is helpful on the other end of the move, but it takes forever, on the “pre-move” end. It takes weeks, and I pack each box, carefully, resenting doing it every minute. Even when the movers packed, I’d go through everything in the house and had it all organized, so they could pack it all exactly like I wanted it—organized. This move, though I packed everything. I am a lot older and slower, so it took a lot longer.
It is painful to say “goodbye” to all the friends we’ve made during our eight-month stay in Los Angeles. We have made some close friends in a short time, but then just like in the military, it isn’t the length of time you are at a place, but the people, that make the difference, and we met some wonderful people—at church, at the hospital, at our apartment, at the lung clinic. As we left friends behind, even knowing we’ll be back in six weeks to see them, the same “leaving forever—nothing will ever be the same” thoughts of our previous moves hit me hard. This part of our life is over; as enjoyable as the next phase of our life will be, it won’t be our time in L. A.
It is hard to leave Los Angeles because we have truly enjoyed the area and our time there; Ed would love to find a condo where we could spend the winter there each year. Many people in Utah have asked us how we liked living in Los Angeles, as though they expected us to relate the perils of living in the big wicked city, fighting gangs, being attacked by movie smut as we walked the streets, inhaling the depraved, smoggy air of Sin City. But our time in the Westwood Area of Los Angeles (one mile south of the Los Angeles Temple) was a memorable one and we enjoyed visiting the local sights—the Getty Villa, La Brea Tar Pits, the Queen Mary at Long Beach, Santa Monica Beach, the Natural History Museum at USC, and much more.
The first part of our move is over, and we’re back home—waiting for our stuff to arrive, so I guess the worst part is over. But I hope I never have to go through that again! But despite everything, the trip was worth it; Ed has a new lung and is a new man, so I can go through a lot more than a move to achieve that!
Beth's Reflections on Retired Life: comments about my adventures after I retired from work.
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