Moving Day: Part I

Claire W.

Last Sunday, Aug. 30, Claire B. and I moved all our earthly possessions from the 4^th floor walk-up in Hoboken, NJ, which Claire B. had shared with her roommate and I had littered with my possessions / self for the past month, to our 4^th floor apartment in Brooklyn, NY, in a building with an elevator (a major luxury, when moving heavy objects against Earth’s gravitational force).

The move was relatively seamless—I mean, I had recently moved from CA, so I only had two suitcases and a large backpack to transport. And while Claire B. had a nice accumulation of furniture and full-size bed to think about, my meager collection of things (however illogically) allowed me to approach the move with comfort and ease, knowing that my personal contribution to the hassles of the move was relatively nil. Of course, I did my part to move furniture and such—I’ve never been one to let my beefy muscles lay idle—but lifting heavy objects was really the worst of it.

After we loaded the moving truck and Claire B. headed out to Brooklyn—nudged in between her parents and with all our possessions in tow—I hopped in a car with a friend of ours and zipped across Manhattan, and ultimately into my new neighborhood: Ditmas Park.