I had to move from a dorm to another dorm once and “borrowed” a grocery cart because I had like 12¢ in my checking account and had to just push all my shit in a grocery cart on a major city’s downtown sidewalks on a business day.

I agreed to fly across the country to drive my dad’s car back home while he drove the uhaul with his stuff. The day I fly out, he calls and tells me he’s been drinking again, the movers canceled on him, and he’s a loser.

I get there and he’s puking up blood as he detoxes, hasn’t eaten in days, and I’m stuck with one driver and two cars. I had to ask my uncle to fly out to help instead of spending time with his son who was on military leave while my stepmother called around to find movers last minute, all while my dad complains about the pain he’s in and how he can’t sleep while taking constant naps and he’s such a loser.

Halfway back he has a seizure in the car I’m driving and I have to help him get the bile and blood he’s choking on out of his throat while operating a vehicle at 80mph to the next exit. Afterward his memory is frazzled and it takes a couple hours for him to remember where he is and what we’re doing.

We get home, I tell him I’m never helping him move again, his response is “but we listened to your music 90% of the way here!” This was three weeks ago.

They stole a firearm.

Moved several states away. Hired a company to load the truck I rented, and the same company to unload at my destination. A few days before moving day they called and said they couldn’t commit to the reservation and cancelled on me, leaving me to scramble to find a new company to load up. Lucky I do and get to my destination without issue. They show up to unload and are not dressed properly at all. One of the two guys clearly doesn’t want to be there and it’s doing the absolute bare minimum each trip he makes. The other guy slips on the truck ramp and hurts himself. Decides the weather was too dangerous to continue (it had sprinkled a little bit like 30 minutes ago) and cancelled the rest of the move with literally all of my furniture still in the truck. I had to call around frantically on a Sunday morning to see if there was any other company that could come out immediately and finish moving. Thankfully I was able to find one and gave each of them a big tip for saving my ass.

Being homeless afterwards. This has happened several times so far. Here’s to the next one!

Moving everything.

So I had bottom surgery two months prior, bed bug treatment like a week or two prior, and was just returning to work like the next day after moving the furniture. Also I couldn’t afford movers and had no friends helping because it was 2021. Thankfully I had my now wife with me, but it was two women moving an hour away.

Or it may have been like two months later when due to unfortunate chance + adhd my landlord thought we abandoned the place when we finally started moving into a new place and threw away the blanket my mom used while dying.

I’ve lived in 14 different houses. I can’t remember any of the moves being particularly bad. Hard work, yes. Have had a couple of sofas not get through doors. Worst related thing was moving into first unfurnished place and assembling the new wooden bed on day 1 with a manual screwdriver that wrecked my hands and left me exhausted. Next day I bought an electric screwdriver and it’s remained one of my top purchases of all time.

It’s winter. My friend needs help moving stuff out of his childhood home after his mom died. Older brothers already got their share.

So here’s the 4 of us guys moving all this old shit, and we come to the upstairs master bedroom. There’s this 7-foot tall solid oak armoire. The stairs are a narrow ¾ spiral. We suspect they got it in originally by hosting it up over the balcony railing (his father had owned a profitable business before one of his brothers drank it into the ground, so it was a big place with high ceilings and stuff).

It took three of us, because that’s all that would fit, to move this humongous chungus inch by goddamn inch down those stairs. Two on the bottom, me up top, and it took like a half hour. And since we didn’t have a big furniture dolly we had to carry the goddamn thing out to the truck and walk it up the slippery metal ramp in Chicagoland flurrying winter.

Moved it into his new house, first floor master bedroom thankfully. We subsequently then told him that if he ever wanted to move it again, he could do it his goddamn self.

Edit: Almost forgot the part where one of the guys lost his footing, and just two of us were holding this in place. If one of the other two of us lost our grip, the two guys below it would have ended up in the hospital. Although my redneck friend almost certainly would have lived through it, cuz that guy and his whole family are a bunch of mutants and are practically indestructible, The other guy would probably have gotten killed or crippled since he was the one who lost his footing too.

I took a tab of acid the evening before the removal guy came. I didn’t sleep the whole night as I was tripping and the removal guy was like a bull in a china shop so I had to move most of the furniture myself without sleep and still coming down from acid. 0/10 would not repeat.

Moved into a newly renovated flat that hadn’t been cleaned. So there was a think layer of brick/plaster dust all over every surface. Then spent months fighting a four figure electricity bill because it turns out the builders had used my particular flat to charge their kit for months.

I have two. One moving some ‘friends’. One moving myself.

The first was when I was in graduate school. About five of us agreed to move a couple and their kid across town. One was another graduate student. His wife was the front office admin. We figured it was nbd. One of us had a truck and they got uhaul. Little did we know ‘moving’ meant ‘packing’. What should have been an afternoon turned into three days. Largely because of how particular she was about how things were packed. We would have said no, but she was in charge of important documents like travel reimbursements so we didn’t want to risk it.

The second was moving to a new job. The truck was late, the place was filthy, and I had to sleep on the wooden floors. Those floors were so disgusting I decided to clean them. I vacuumed. I mopped. Nothing would get them clean, so I got a power washer. I learned that day that power washers can set off smoke detectors. The entire building was evacuated. Afterwards, I had to meet with the dean about it. She chewed me out and asked why I hadn’t called facilities to have it clean. I told her if it wasn’t cleaned before I moved in why should I expect it to be cleaned now. I have a feeling my contract not being renewed had something to do with that.

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I was living with my girlfriend, at her place. I went home to take care of my mother who had cancer. My mother died. I came home after that and my girlfriend broke up with me. I didn’t have anywhere to go. I moved to my car, in the winter. That sucked.

Early in my transition I overheard one of the movers saying to the other.

Where does the fag want us to put the dresser?