Gone (aka Wherein I Explain Why Cleaning Gives Me Anxiety)

A couple of weekends ago, I moved out of my apartment.((Yes, the apartment complex I talked about in Monday’s post. They were a trainwreck…but that’s a story for a different post.))

Apologies for my supremely shitty phone camera pics in advance.
Apologies for my supremely shitty phone camera pics in advance.

That’s not where this story begins though.

I’ve moved…fourteen times((I think I’m counting right here. It’s somewhere between 14 and 17, so I’m going to shoot for the lower end of this range just to be safe))…since I turned 9. Until the apartment pictured above, I had not lived at a single address for longer than two and a half years consecutively during that time. It’s not a fun experience. A combination of family financial struggles, college moves, work moves, family financial struggles a second time (and probably a third time),  packing up boxes to hold all my stuff happened far too frequently. This isn’t taking into account the fact that every summer I had to pack up 2-3 weeks worth of clothes so that I could((extremely reluctantly)) stay at my mom’s.

There are two terrible parts of moving in my mind — packing and cleaning. Many people add a third item in the form of the actual act of moving out to that list, however I consider that to be a very small annoyance compared to the other items. The act of packing up anything and everything you have in order to move is a depressing action. Sure, you’re going somewhere else, however the motivation factor of packing your stuff drops drastically when you realize what comes after.

Cleaning is a wretched task under nearly any circumstance, but even more so when it comes to moving. I’ve yet to find an apartment complex that thinks a normal human being’s cleaning skills are acceptable for moving out. Instead, hours upon hours must be spent washing walls, shampooing carpets, and scrubbing floors. I spent nearly 15 hours cleaning my apartment in Arizona((I’d like to thank my fiancée for all the cleaning she did at this apartment when I moved this time. I would have gone insane otherwise.)) before I moved out, only for the apartment complex to keep over half of my deposit because apparently shampooing my carpets twice wasn’t adequate.

Cleaning is dumb. Cleaning gives me anxiety. Cleaning while moving adds an additional level of dread to the whole ordeal. Why would anyone with any level of sanity want to remove the traces of themselves from the closest thing they’ve had to stability in a long time?

There are certainly advantages to moving. In this particular case, I moved in order to begin staying with the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I moved the small amount of stuff I own in order to get us settled prior to our wedding. I even got to put up my Seahawks pennant for the first time.

Unfortunately, I wrinkled the tip of the pennant long before the move.
Unfortunately, I wrinkled the tip of the pennant long before the move.

I’m excited for this new portion of life. Let’s just hope that once we get settled, the moving — and the cleaning — comes to a much lower volume than I’m used to.



Gone (aka Wherein I Explain Why Cleaning Gives Me Anxiety)

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8 thoughts on “Gone (aka Wherein I Explain Why Cleaning Gives Me Anxiety)

    1. It’s going fairly well so far. She bought me ice cream the other day. I’ve yet to have any (that will change tonight), but it’s a lovely gesture.

  1. I think anyone would have cleaning anxiety if 15 hours of work wasn’t enough for some shitty apartment complex.

    I’ve moved 16 times in my life and only one landlord I’ve ever had was THAT dickish about it. But then he was a crazy person who literally busted into our apartment and tried to strangle both Tyler and I, so. Y’know. Not a normal example.

    On a more fun note, it’s exciting that you’re moving in with your fiancee!

    1. There’s a happy ending to this story though. I got all of my deposit back except for $15 for a broken set of blinds (which had been broken since roughly my first month of living there).

  2. Damn. Now I’m thinking about likely moving sometime come summer. Packing is the absolute worst (and, as you point out, call that cleaning!). I know I’m supposed to be a grown-ass adult, but I’ll probably try and coax my parents to visit and help.

  3. I haven’t moved all that often, but I’m weird when it comes to the cleaning. I used to hate cleaning, but my mom pounded it so hard into us, that now I clean quite regularly. Cleaning after moving is exciting to me. (Far more exciting than having to clean where I’m moving TO before I can move in… that, I absolutely hate). It’s this whole idea of being able to put it back to what it was, to leave it in as close to perfection as I can.

    I think I’m more excited about cleaning this time after moving, mainly because a) I own it now and b) I want our new tenants to see the pride that the previous owners put into renovating the basement apartment, and the pride that Scott and I have had in keeping it look like it was just renovated.

    As far as you moving in with your wife-to-be, I’m totally excited for you! That was one of my favourite parts of moving. Even though I didn’t start sleeping there until after the wedding, we had all my stuff moved over about three months before and set up the way we wanted it to be. It was exciting to have it as our first home.

    1. I believe the fact that my mom was such an obsessive cleaner and the fact that all of the moving living with my dad/stepmom turned me off to it more than it should. I don’t get excitement or joy out of cleaning at all. I mean, yes, I am happy that whoever comes after me doesn’t have to clean. But that doesn’t bring me joy. I just view it as basic human decency.

      Thanks. I am pretty excited that we’re living together. I don’t think this situation would have arisen had it not been for the shoddy service of my old apartment complex (among a few other circumstances). It is nice though, in spite of increasing my commute time by 30-40% each day.

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