The Vicious Math of Moving
Moving is an Exercise in Problem Solving, Flexibility, and Math
In Fight Club, the Narrator informs us, “Take the number of vehicles in the field, A, multiply by the probable rate of failure, B, multiply by the average out-of-court settlement, C. A times B times C equals X. If X is less than the cost of a recall, we don’t do one.”
Our Moving math is like that, especially if moving across the country. As I mentioned in my last article about moving, we’re running low on resources, and we are Rust Belt bound (just a few days left!). We sat and did some math when deciding to move to see how much we were willing to pay to get our things across the country, and math went something like this.
Take all of our stuff, assign a dollar value for its perceived replacement value, and get UHaul boxes that might fit it all.
The one thing that is always certain about moving (and I’ve moved a lot) — you’re never sure how much stuff you have. It feels like there are never enough boxes (there aren’t), enough space for all your stuff (there isn’t), and enough time to actually get it all done (at some point, though, it’s time to turn over the keys and get out).
It’s basically playing survivor with your own stuff, you know?
It can also be a touch depressing, figuring out what the value of your things are. Instead, I try to focus on how much joy I get to take with me.
My favorite things, my most prized possessions, are my antique sewing machine, my spinning wheel, my loom — and the laptop I’m writing this on (though strangely I’m less attached to the laptop, that’s mainly because of how quickly technology comes and goes anymore). And while those things mean a lot to me, to the market evaluation of them — not so much. But that’s ok. Part of their value is their importance to me.
I’ve decided, like a crazy person, that the best way to move the antique sewing machine is to remove the machine head and ship the treadle base in the UHaul Box. That means that I extracted the machine head itself, and then had to find a way to transport it. That presented some issues. First, the set screws that held the machine onto the cabinet were pretty gunked up, and refused to move despite all my best efforts. Instead, I took the hinges themselves. Which meant she wouldn’t fit into the nice case I thought would work.
Instead, I decided to get a bit inventive in my problem solving. I used the wood base I had purchased from this ebay shop, and then looked for something it would fit into. Luckily, I had a plastic bin on hand that was just perfect.
Also, if you’re looking for anything antique sewing machine related, Duane’s ebay shop is a great resource, and he was very quick to respond to messages and questions I had.
From there, it was just a matter of packing her in — and I wrapped her up, cut some foam to size to keep her as still as possible, and stuffed clothes around her. After all, I still need to have clothes to wear and every inch of space in the car will be valuable!
The other way that moving forces one to become inventive is in some of the ways that things need to be packed. For instance, I have my antique dress form, ‘Debbie,’ and she didn’t exactly come in a box. Instead, I made her into a mummy, and will figure out what kind of additional padding /storage she’ll need from there. I laughed myself silly over my mini-mummy-me.
Today is a big day — the containers get delivered, and we’ll start to fit our stuff inside. Inevitably, we’ll shift, re-shift, repack, and take more and more stuff to Goodwill and other thrift shops. We’ve been preparing for the move for over four months, so we’ve divested ourselves of a lot of the stuff we had that just didn’t make the math-cut.
It can be hard. to let go of things, especially in a time like this when we’re financially stressed and everything feels so insecure. There’s a temptation to define ourselves by our things. They help indicate what we like, and who we’ve invested in becoming. But ultimately — they are things. Everything in this world is temporary, everything is shifting. We can’t walk around like the Junk Lady in Labyrinth, even if our things give us comfort and make us feel more secure in the moment.
The one thing I’ve learned is that security is just one of the many stories we tell ourselves to get through the days. I think we all learned that during the pandemic — that there is nothing guaranteed in this world. In many ways, our things are ways to comfort ourselves and forget impermanence for a moment. Moving offers a chance to see through to our future self, and give them things that will serve them. While it might be comforting to have something that was meaningful to me years ago, if it doesn’t serve my future self, it’s time to consider if it’s worth it to take it on the journey — or to let it go to help someone else on theirs.