Moving

Oh man. I hate moving. There are few things less enjoyable than spending untold hours, days and weeks packing your things into boxes, putting them into a car or truck and then taking them out again at a different location. This is especially true during the month of August in Arizona. In some ways, moving is an exercise in futility; kind of like making your bed. I looked up futility and found that it means "a useless act or gesture." Making your bed is fairly useless because you will soon be gracing your sheets again with your presence the next time the sun goes down. Likewise, moving is futile because you're just going to move again. It's most evident when you take the time, energy and sweat to pack, move and unpack things you neither need nor want.

I know this isn't really true. We need our stuff to have the kind of lives we want to live. A bedroom without a bed isn't very comfortable, you need the fridge to have most of your food and you need clothes if you don't want to be arrested or a laughingstock. The reality is that we have this cloud of stuff following us all our lives and we are anchored by these things unless we want to give them away. Even if we give these things away, however, we will need to get more stuff later. It's just the annoying fact of life that we must move our things one by one.

Of course no one likes to move (unless you're weird). I just get annoyed by owning so many useless things. Maybe this is why I like to pack light on vacation. I think I'll end this on a light note. Consider the following scene from one of my favorite childhood movies: