An Idiot's Guide to Moving for Dummies and Idiots

When I was little I always wanted to move. I was born in the house my parents still live in (I mean, not literally - Alabama has hospitals, you know), and I was jealous of my brothers who switched houses several times before I arrived. But now that I am older, I am thankful for that stability in my younger years. I made up for it by moving a gajillion times after high school as if I was I on the run from the law and my real name is Beezow Doo-Doo ZopittyBop-Bop-Bop.

Ha-ha! What a silly thought!

I have found, however, that moving is terrible. It requires a lot of hassle and manual labor, two of my least favorite things outside of Lenny Kravitz and the thought of starving kittens. Each time I moved to a new apartment I would loudly declare, “I am never leaving! This is where I am going to die!” But, as the saying goes ‘nothing mold can stay’ (I have lived in a couple of crappy apartments), and six months later I would find myself moving into a new apartment and shouting empty promises about being buried under the floorboards. But I mean it this time, despite the fact that my rent is about to considerably increase and that my upstairs neighbor snores like Godzilla and has trained her two dogs in the lost art of canine tapdance.

I felt like I should do something with all this acquired moving wisdom, so I decided to write another informative guide for the uninformed, gullible masses. But don't feel pressured to buy anything now. Enjoy these free excerpts*!

*Reading these excerpts legally constitutes a sale.

If you are reading this, you have already been billed.

from Chapter 1: Looking for a New Apartment

Searching for a new place to live can be daunting. Luckily there are many fantastic resources online to aid in your search, but none of them are Craigslist. All housing on Craigslist is riddled with peepholes and old syringes. If you don’t believe me, I suggest purchasing my first guide here and then returning to this chapter.

.........

Welcome back. Congratulations on narrowly escaping what was described as a “One bedroom basement apartment. Very quiet. In fact, no one can hear you scream." Now you can move on to more reputable search sites to find your new Shangri-la. These other sites are not bereft of misgivings, however. You have to be careful of the ads’ wording. I’ve never seen ad copy that hasn’t stated it was “nestled in a picturesque forest” or “nestled in a pristine valley”. It doesn’t matter where the apartment complex is located, it is nestled there. In reality the only thing you will be nestled in is the greedy tendrils of a 12 month unbreakable lease.

The apartment complexes’ names are also designed to mislead you. They all have flowery, scenic names that can’t reasonably be backed up. Can you see an air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror of your neighbors ’77 Skylark? You must live in “Pine View”. Is there a hole in the parking lot that fills up on rainy days that the neighbor kids play in? Welcome to “Lakeside Crest”. Do the cracks in your bathtub sprout mushrooms? That’s “Fun Gus’s Gardens”, and you really should have figured that one out.

Nestled in a magical grove of oaks, make your new home at beautiful Riverfront Terrace!

from Chapter 4: Packing up Your Apartment

The first thing you’re going to want to do is buy lots of packing boxes and neatly organize your belongings. Resist that urge. That would take time and effort, and I’m going to show you an easier way.

Step 1: Haphazardly throw all your belongings into a pile on your apartment floor, excluding pets. If you have any experience ransacking or pillaging, this will come in handy.

Step 2: Douse that pile with your favorite liquid, just as long as your favorite liquid is highly flammable and does not require a special license to purchase.

Step 3: Light a match.

Step 4: Collect your $17 in insurance money. Although you owned a lot of stuff, let’s face it, most of it was worthless, and you could really use that 17 bucks to care for all the burn wounds you just sustained.

from Chapter 8: Moving to a New State

If you have been following this guide closely, you are now wanted for arson, insurance fraud, and something called first degree pre-meditated animal larceny, so you’ll probably want to move to a new state where people won’t recognize you. Georgia, for example.  This has its own set of obstacles, because you will now have to get a new driver’s license. Depending on what state you’re in, you may want to allow plenty of time for your field trip to the DMV. If you want to be first in line, I suggest camping overnight in the parking lot and ambushing the tents of anyone who has a similar idea. Again, this is where your experience in ransacking and pillaging will come in handy.

Please remember that to qualify for a new license you will have to bring an original copy of your birth certificate, a utility bill addressed to your new residence, your social security card, a vial of your blood, a receipt from the last time you ate at Applebee's, and an in-state church attendance record notarized by the Pope, regardless of your religious affiliation. The state doesn’t actually want to give you a driver’s license, but should you succeed in accumulating these items, they are regretfully required to issue you one.

The people who work at the DMV are notoriously surly, so I like to butter them up with compliments as soon as I step up to their counter. Admittedly, this has never worked because all my compliments are, “Yo girl! You smell like biscuits!” It is my hope that one day my assigned worker will 1) be a female, and 2) accept that compliment in the spirit in which it was intended.

When it comes time to take a picture for your new ID, you will want to mentally prepare yourself, because this photo will haunt you for a minimum of 5 years, and perhaps much longer should you be wanted for a crime (which you are) and the news people splatter it all over the television (which they will). I like to practice this mantra over and over in my head as I’m waiting for the camera’s snap: “Don’t look like a felon. Don’t look high. Don’t look like a felon. Don’t look high.”

 Crap.

from Chapter 15: Dieing There

So now you're all settled into your new apartment. I am happy that you have benefited from the knowledge gleaned during my many painstaking experiences. Now all that is left is to hunker down and wait for death. And should our paths ever cross, say, during a monster truck rally or federal court, I will happily clasp your hand, dear reader, and thank you for purchasing my book, and then remind you that moving is awful and you swore you would never do it again.

Also, no refunds.