There is NOTHING worse than moving.

 I would rather get all of my teeth drilled simultaniously while being forced to listen to the theme song of Two and a Half Men over and over in Ted Kazinski’s basement than move.

I can’t even count the number of the times I’ve moved in the past few years; in and out of dorms, in and out of summer housing, into my first “big girl” apartment, out of my first “big girl” apartment into a “bigger girl” apartment…and now, my roommate broke the news to me that she will be moving back home to Syracuse for an internship. Ugh. Time to go to Wegmans and get the banana boxes.

Last year, I made the mistake of trying to move all by myself. I was moving right down the street, so I figured, “Eh, no problem…I’ve moved in and out of dorms by myself…this shouldn’t be bad, right?”

Ha.

I rented a dolly from U-HAUL, stacked the boxes five or six high, and got to pushing. Twelve hours, fifty trips, and an aching head (from smacking myself in the face with the dolly, cartoon-style) later, my crap was sitting in my new apartment.

THEN it was time to unpack…but we won’t even go there.

I’ve learned my lesson. I need some HELP. I have a lot more stuff than I did last year (thanks, Craigslist) and there is NO WAY I can pull off dragging a 100+ pound antique oak dresser down the street without a hernia.

I refuse to spend money on movers.  I’m 23, and poor. And I’ve got priorities.

Thankfully, I’ve got a sweet, caring, thoughtful boyfriend who will gladly help me move…’cause that’s what boyfriends do, right?

Apparently, my boyfriend will bring me lunch, give me rides, and buy me drinks when we go out, but when it comes to moving, he is suddenly ”really busy, sorry!”

Um…excuse me?

“Well, you moved last time on your own, so you should be able to pull it off this time, right?”

Huh?

“My back’s been bugging me lately, and I don’t think I should do anything that might make it worse, ya know?”

I tried pleading. Bribing. BEGGING. My boyfriend will NOT help me move.  

What a DB.

Next time you browse Craigslist, if you see a gorgrous, 100+ pound antique oak dresser, know that it was found off of Park Ave next to a dead girl with a hernia.

Just saying.