I. Hate. Moving. There are a couple of things about moving that really make it one of the things I hate most in this world. When I say moving is one of the things I hate most in this world, I’m being hyperbolic, but there are a few aspects of moving that really grind my gears.

First of all, there’s the actual process. It’s the most tedious work out there. You have to move every single thing you own. That means everything in your house from the essentials, like your TV and your couch, have to be moved alongside all of the things you forgot you owned, like Yahtzee. Meanwhile, it’s not like there is any room for error, because if you leave something, it’s game over. Gone forever.

The kitchen is by far the worst room in the house to pack up for two reasons. First you have to individually wrap each plate and glass in tissue paper, and tediously place it into boxes while also trying very hard not to shatter anything. It is both the slowest and most tedious work you will do while you move.

The second reason this is the worst room in the house to pack is that after you have finally packed up all of the plates and glasses, and the most tedious work is done, you don’t have any plates to eat off of, and you have no glasses to drink from. So you spend the rest of your move eating from takeout boxes, which makes the last days in your house the least homey.

And if you’re not packing up a possession, it’s being thrown out. Inevitably there will be things you want to throw out, and some things you feel like you can’t live without. You have to throw things out because it is too expensive to move everything you ever owned.

At this point it should be said that I am a fairly sentimental person, which is terrible for someone who is forced to sift through all of their possessions. This really became a problem for me when I had to go through my old legos. Yes, those have to be gone through too.

I know some people reading this may think that because I am eighteen years old, throwing out these old toys I never play with should be a piece of cake. Well it’s not. It’s hard because I have attached some aspects of my early childhood happiness to these toys, and although their existence rarely crosses my mind I still find it hard to let them go. But they had to be thrown out.

There’s something emotionally draining about watching the action figures and Legos you once cherished as a child be senselessly thrown in the trash.

But I got through it, and I have now moved into a new apartment, and with that comes the other half of moving people often don’t talk about: moving in.

Moving in is like moving out’s little brother, who isn’t quite as bad, but hangs around for longer and comes with some unexpected challenges. The heavy lifting was done for me, but living in a house that isn’t fully completed is sort of like being in purgatory. It’s not bad or good, really. It just feels like until you’re fully moved in, it’s not really your house yet. And this feeling doesn’t go away until you figure out what to do with all of the stuff you just spent all of that time packing!

In short, moving accomplishes almost nothing. After all of that work, packing up everything you ever owned, all you end up with is a somewhat streamlined collection of possessions.