Moving from the Lower East Side to Queens is putting a year and a half of life, or more precisely 534 days, in boxes. A year is long enough for me to collect a list of my favorite neighborhood spots, including Croissanteria on Avenue A (hands down the best croissant in the City) and Pain D’Avignon in Essex Market (a winner for baguette and breads in general). But a year is also short enough that I do not call the neighborhood home.
I hired movers to help me with the move. And having packed and unpacked boxes, I’ve learned a few things about the art of moving.
Irony: “Honestly, I don’t have much stuff!”
That’s what I had believed and when I called the movers, I informed them that I have very little luggage. I had a large suitcase, five boxes (and maybe a little more), a mattress/frame, desk, chair, small bookshelf and two lamps. But no, I stressed that I travel light.
Turned out, I was a little off in my calculation. Either the boxes I salvaged from my apartment’s recycling bin were too small, or I was a hoarder of not-essential-but-might-be-useful-later things, instead of five boxes I ended up with 12.
The first rule to mastering the art of moving, More, not less boxes, seriously, stop deluding yourself.
You + Your Life = Boxes
Excluding furniture, my roommate summed up her years in the city as followed: “This is what I am, 20 boxes.” Continue reading