The Great Relocation

Featuring houseplants, vacuum bags, and one very concerned dog.

As you read this, my movers arrive in two days, and I leave for Wilmington in four.

Which means I am currently existing in a very specific state of chaos.

Not bad chaos. Not stressful chaos. More like my brain has 47 tabs open at all times, and each one is trying to remind me of something important. Every time I finish one task, I immediately remember three more. My Notes app has become less of an organizational tool and more of a lifestyle. At this point, I probably have close to 86 different lists. There are moving lists, shopping lists, Wilmington lists, baby shower lists, packing lists, road trip lists, and multiple lists that probably could have been combined, but absolutely were not.

The good news is that I’m actually in pretty good shape. If packing readiness were graded on a scale of one to ten, I’d put myself at about an eight. I’ve made multiple trips to my storage unit over the last few weeks, which means most of the boxes are already where they need to be for the movers. What’s left is largely the stuff that’s coming with me in the car, and all the last-minute items that can’t be packed until the very end because I’m still actively using them.

As it turns out, those final items are somehow the most annoying part of moving.

The easy stuff gets packed weeks ahead of time. The difficult stuff is everything you still need every day. Clothes, toiletries, medications, chargers, the random kitchen items you’re somehow using right up until departure day. Every time I think I’m done, I discover another category of things that still needs a plan.

And then there’s Pancakes.

Honestly, if someone looked at my packing strategy without any context, they would probably assume I’m relocating a dog and her assistant.

Pancakes has a crate coming with us, one of her beds, food, treats, toys, and enough supplies to ensure she remains comfortable throughout the three-day drive. Every time she sees me packing a box, she immediately brings me her favorite puppy toy, as if she’s personally overseeing quality control and wants to make sure I don’t forget the most important item.

Don’t worry, Pancakes. Your puppy is coming.

The other VIP passengers will be my three houseplants, which I refuse to abandon after spending years keeping them alive. I’ve become surprisingly attached to them. Beyond that, I’ll have two suitcases full of clothes and essentials, my laptop, important documents, medications, and some baby shower decorations I’ve been collecting for Shelby’s shower in a few weeks. The moving truck shouldn’t be delayed, but I don’t particularly want to gamble with anything I absolutely need.

One thing that continues to test my patience throughout this process is Facebook Marketplace.

I know some people love it.

I am not one of those people.

The dining chairs sold almost immediately, which honestly surprised me. The sofa and dining table, on the other hand, have been a much different experience. Apparently, there is a special category of Marketplace shopper whose entire business model revolves around convincing people to give away expensive furniture for the price of a fast-food combo meal.

Then there are the people who enthusiastically schedule a pickup time and simply never appear.

No message.

No explanation.

No apology.

Just gone.

As I write this, the sofa and dining table are both still available. By the time you’re reading this, hopefully, they have found loving new homes. If not, I’d appreciate everyone’s cooperation in pretending I never mentioned them.

One unexpected part of this move has been discovering products I suddenly feel compelled to tell everyone about.

Let’s start with vacuum storage bags.

Where have these been all my life?

I know they’ve existed forever, but apparently, I was late to the party. They’ve been amazing for clothes, blankets, pillows, and all the various soft items I’ve accumulated over the past couple of years. They have also been incredibly useful for all of Pancakes’ belongings because, despite weighing only 40 pounds, she somehow owns enough beds and blankets to furnish a small apartment. The ones I bought came with a rechargeable electric pump, which makes the whole process ridiculously easy.

The second MVP is giant zippered moving bags. They’re basically oversized IKEA bags with zippers and handles, and I’ve been using them for everything that doesn’t need the protection of a box. I love that they’re reusable because I’m increasingly annoyed by the concept of buying cardboard boxes only to immediately recycle them after the move.

Meanwhile, I have spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about a cooler.

There are a handful of refrigerated items I’d love to bring with me to North Carolina, which has sent me down a rabbit hole of cooler research. As of writing this, I still haven’t decided whether a Yeti cooler is worth spending $200 on. Part of me says absolutely not. The other part of me has spent enough time reading cooler reviews that I feel oddly qualified to teach a college-level course on ice retention.

Another thing taking up far more space in my brain than it probably should is my decor list.

I have a very specific vision for the cottage, and part of that vision apparently involves bowls.

I would like a sprinkle bowl near my coffee station.

I would like a bowl of mints near the front door, like they have at restaurants.

I would like a lip gloss bowl somewhere.

At this point, I’m starting to think my entire design philosophy is simply “put things in attractive bowls.”

In four days, Pancakes and I will officially begin the drive. We’ll spend the first night in Memphis and the second in Asheville before finally arriving in Wilmington. Am I excited about driving across the country? Not particularly. I’ve always been firmly Team Airplane. But I’ve been saving podcast episodes and audiobooks specifically for the trip, which feels like the adult version of saving your favorite snack for later.

The part that makes me a little emotional isn’t actually the move itself. It’s thinking about Pancakes leaving my parents’ house. She’s been here longer than anywhere else in her life. She loves my parents. She loves their giant backyard. She has a routine here. I know she’ll be completely fine, but it still makes me a little sad.

Then I remember she’s about to be reunited with Shelby’s dog, Penelope.

The two of them lived together briefly as puppies in Colorado, and I have a feeling they’re going to pick up exactly where they left off.

So that’s the current state of affairs.

My brain is busy. My lists are multiplying. My houseplants are preparing for a cross-country adventure. Pancakes is conducting toy-related quality control inspections. Somewhere out there, hopefully, a buyer is preparing to purchase my dining table.

And by this time next week, I’ll be in Wilmington.

Honestly, that still feels strange to type.

For months, Wilmington has existed mostly as a plan, a lease agreement, Pinterest boards, furniture orders, and anticipation. In just a few days, it becomes real. I’ll finally see my actual cottage for the first time, not just the model home I toured months ago. I’ll unlock the front door, walk inside, and see the space that’s occupied such a large portion of my brain for the better part of a year.

And after all the lists, planning, packing, organizing, and preparation, I honestly can’t wait.

-Ash