I moved about eight times in four years in France. You’d think it wouldn’t phase me anymore, but no. I hate moving. I dread moving. I hang onto stuff I should throw out and I throw out stuff I later regret. And I have no upper body strength, so I suck at the actual moving things part too.
(Remind me to tell you about that one time Hugo and I moved a convertible sofa, just the two of us. Actually, I’ll tell you now. It was really, really, really heavy, and there was no parking in front of our building. We had to park several blocks away and carry the damn couch. I literally howled all the way down the street. Hugo was super embarrassed.)