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Blog: "Two Unexpected Downsides to Moving Houses" by Paul Jury Last week I griped about the hassles of moving houses. I would like to clarify that I am in no way complaining: I feel lucky beyond belief about getting to move into this new, fun house. And the truth is, I had no right to complain: I expected hassle. Moving is kind of like giving birth: some deliveries go more smoothly than others, some take several days while others are over in a matter of hours (especially if you hire movers). But none is entirely without discomfort, and all leave you not wanting to repeat the process for at least 9 months. So I expected some pains in the process off moving my every possession from one house to another. But there were at least two nuisances from this particular move that I didn't expect. 1) Signing my name I've never bought a house before. Don't get me wrong - I have no business buying one now, yet somehow my brother and I decided now that the mortgage industry is collapsing, this would be the perfect time to borrow an insane amount of money and scrape together a paltry down payment and invest in real estate. Turns out banks will lend you all kinds of money for crazy investments, as long as you have good credit and are willing to collateral your soul. Anyway, it turns out there's a lot of paperwork involved in this process. Before July, I didn't even know the meaning of the word "Escrow" (turns out it's Latin for "Paperwork Store"). I showed up at our neighborhood document emporium and found a pile of papers the size of a large phonebook waiting for me to sign. And not just with my name. The problem with having a co-buyer who lives across the country (and puts down a lot more money than you) is that you have to get his power of attorney and sign his name too, plus a fancy flourish of legalese just to make sure your wrist is nice and tired. Well over 100 times, I had to write the following: "Paul Jury… and Mark Jury, by Paul Jury, his attorney in face." In cursive. I haven't written cursive since I was in 3rd grade handwriting class. And I haven't written the same thing so many times since I got in trouble for goofing off in 3rd grade handwriting class. I signed things for nearly two solid hours. I felt like David Hasselhoff at a German pop culture convention. But the time I was done, my arm felt like I'd been rock climbing all day and hadn't been allowed to use my feet. Trying to keep my spirits up, I joked with the escrow lady that "At least now my other wrist is getting a work out". I don't think she got it. 2) Not being able to open a bottle Several months ago, when I still lived in Paulina, I took a trip to Goodwill to drop off all the duplicate can-openers, skillets, egg-beaters and whatnot that we had clogging up our cupboard space. I had occurred to me that I might be moving, and that perhaps I should keep some of the stuff in case our new house was lacking, but I figured with multiple roommates SOMEONE would be moving in with a complete set of measuring cups and kitchen accoutrements. Somehow, Sam, Josh and Gabe must have all have been thinking the same thing, because we all showed up on moving day without so much as a frying pan. The value of basic household elements like dish towels and toilet paper is not something you fully appreciate until you have to do without. My brother Alex and his girlfriend Diana came over Sunday to cook for us (in exchange for my paying for all the groceries/getting to use our rain shower), and Diana had to bring cookware because all we had was one pot and a spatula. We had to wash plates in the middle of the meal because we didn't have any place to put desert. We couldn't have wine because we didn't have a corkscrew. I though about going back to Goodwill and telling them that now I was in need, but there's nothing Goodwill volunteers love better than laughing at you when you come crawling back. When we finished with dinner, I had Diana dictate a list of kitchen items that we should have but didn't. Seriously, there's so much stuff on this list I don't even know what to do. The list took up my entire voice recorder memory (because obviously we had no post-its) and sounded like an inventory list at Bed Bath and Beyond. I had no idea so much was needed to maintain an adult kitchen. Usually I just cook pasta and eat it out of the pot with a plastic spoon. There's so much stuff I can't just go to Target without breaking my credit card. My only options are to start hounding garage sales like one of those little old ladies, or else to open a wedding registry. Because honestly, it would probably be easier to pay my fake bride and the annulment fees than to buy all this stuff from Crate and Barrel. See Paul's complete blog at www.paulspond.com |
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