It was not a "moving" experience
We decided to move. And heck, we figured, "there's no better time to move than during a global pandemic." And as a voiceover artist, I like to keep it uber-interesting.
So! With that, we began our search. We found the one we wanted on May 6th: our dream home. We decided that was it. We made an offer. They came back and said that they wouldn’t entertain our offer unless it was non-contingent, and unless our house was actually pending – not pending inspection, mind you, but pending sale, which I’m now told does not happen within five minutes or even fifty. So we scrambled, and really busted our humps. We put everything into the garage, and could not find our infant son for 3 hours because we had accidentally packed him too. The faint scratching at the door alerted us to his presence inside a sweaty Home Depot box perched precariously atop that floor lamp. But he was satisfied, and as we had inadvertently packed him with the Ritz crackers, we heard no complaints. I am kidding. Please stop dialing CPS.
All was well. The photographer came and took photos. The house was staged. We were sure it would sell within our fifty self-allotted minutes, and we would be well on our way to closing on our dream home.
Overnight, the seller, a mean man whose full name I believe was Satan S. Satan, accepted another offer. After all of that fuss, that hustle, that complete sweatstorm that we endured to put virtually our entire house in the garage for the next 3 months (which, when you have two small children is a duration which feels about the same as the length of time the earth has been in existence multiplied by the age of God to the power of a billion million gazillion), we lost out on our dream home.
The next few months would be hellfire and brimstone, to the power of a billion million gazillion.
I can’t find my underwear
When you’re moving, and you’ve staged your home, you put everything in a magical place called Somewhere Else, because that’s where it needs to go in order for the presentable parts of your house to look pleasant enough to purchase. However, what the Inventor of Moving did not take into account was the fact that when you put all of your son’s three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand Pixar toys into a big box out in the garage so that the house will stay clean, they will invariably ALL creep back into the house and adorn your floors once again so that when you get up to pee at 3am, you will enjoy the exquisite privilege of stepping on that one plastic shark with the tall dorsal fin that stabs entirely through your foot, through your brain and up into the sky, knocking the earth off its axis as you belt out enough expletives to power the nearest nuclear reactor.
But our house was stripped clean, and we awaited potential buyers to come through. And what did I do to keep myself busy? Why, voiceovers of course. I buried myself in my work and performed as many jobs as I could, marketing the same exact way I always did when we weren’t moving: with a hustle that would rival the creation of the world.
I balanced voiceovers and auditioning and marketing and invoicing with packing, more packing, re-packing, and of course, stepping on sharks while packing. But at least we made sure to double-check the boxes for our infant this time. I just couldn’t find my underwear for the life of me. All I knew is that it was somewhere in the garage with the Ritz crackers.
We will never move again due to the horrors we experienced. Here’s a glorious and completely non-comprehensive list of some of the major things that we learned during our move from our old home to our new, in order to make your head spin and second-guess any future plans to move:
- Voiceover gear weighs approximately ninety-two tons, no matter what stage you’re at. Prepare to sell off a child to pay for expense of the movers, who conveniently go by combined weight of all possessions. This is a stern lesson that unless you’re deeply into Feng Shui and minimalistic living, you’re going to pay dearly. Also, if you married a book-lover, I feel for you. Those things weigh a ton. The movers like homeowners who have a ton of weight to move.
- Zillow knows that you are going insane, which is why they send you notifications designed to make you cry, for houses that you know you'll never get
- Your budget will never be enough to cover everything. Did you set one? Double it. Then multiply that new budget times pi, add another $20,000 in discretionary funds and then round your new figure up to anything that ends in -illion.
- It is not wise to cancel your moving company two days before your move, which I most certainly did due to a high amount of sass coming from the original company we contracted with. When this happened, I found that if I balanced just the right amount of panic plus an increase in my prayers for a miracle, I would repeatedly pass out.
- It really doesn’t matter what you label boxes with for the movers to put them in the correct place. Boxes labeled “attic” will conveniently end up in the living room. Boxes labeled “living room” will end up at the neighbors’. And boxes labeled “neighbors” will most assuredly beget calls to the authorities.
- Infants do not belong in moving boxes with or without crackers.
- Increase your moving budget even more.
- Prepare to do battle with your spouse over which house is truly the right one for you. Rid yourselves of your previous definition of arguing, because your new definition will be of biblical proportions and will need to encompass the full scope of monstrous fury and unbridled marital rage. Make sure that the couch is not packed or inaccessible because you will need to quickly migrate to it in the event of fallout. Bring Ritz crackers in order to survive: you may be there for a while.
- When your old home is cleared out, ensure that you remember to keep a blanket or two along with a comfy pillow in your car, should you decide to sleep overnight there on your last night. I failed to do so, and as a result my back is now the softness and pliability of an encyclopedia.
- Warning: neighbors who currently suffer from PTSD and have a propensity to smoke weed and dance completely naked on their rooftops while your potential buyers are doing a walkthrough, will most certainly do so, and you will never find the answer whether said dancing was a drawback or an unexpected incentive for your new buyers. I am not kidding about this, and I have pictures to prove it. I didn’t even have to enter a credit card number.
- Just because you have a van, you do not need to prove to the world that you have a van. Do not load up your Honda Odyssey with your StudioBricks voiceover components, which will surely weigh the back half of your van down like a Snoop Doggmobile, pointing the nose of your van toward the sky. While this will facilitate an effective Space Shuttle-like launch, this is a friendly advance reminder that your van is not in fact a space shuttle.
- Steel yourself for frenzied Screen Time alerts on your iPhone signaling that your Zillow usage is approaching the maximum allowable usage threshold.
- If you have children, you may experience some difficulty in readying your house for showing. Therefore, do not have children. If you have children already, then your case is hopeless and you must live there until Jesus returns.
- Hidden nest cameras make great spying equipment to listen in on comments from potential home buyers.
- Got some spare cash? Now might be a good time to throw a bit more allowance toward your moving budget.
It’s over. It’s done.
Frodo says this after the Ring is destroyed. I agree with Frodo. All things considered, the journey-to-destroy-The-One-Ring was comparable to the journey of finding our future home. It was a long and painful one, and next time we even think about moving, I’ll just elect to hand over the ring and be utterly destroyed by Sauron straightaway.
It’s an arduous process that is exasperated by things that end in -illion, two little ones that simply MUST have fruit snacks and Toy Story while you’re trying to pack, and having to leave at a moment’s notice for potential buyers to walk through, regardless if you’re wearing pants or not.
In short, were we simply able to attach our previous house to helicopter cables and have them spin us off into a large field of roughly 4 acres somewhere, that would have been fine, because nothing is perfect, and all we really wanted was some extra space and some peace and quiet. But we found a beautiful home on beautiful property, my voiceovers are now back in full swing, and I’m back in business.
Oh! And I found my underwear.
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