I never thought I would say this, but can we go back to 2019?
To say that we are living in a surreal world, unlike anything that most of us have ever seen. The country is shut down, we are on the verge of a global recession, many of our friends and family members have been infected by the deadly COVID-19. So, with all of this going on, what is one neurotic millennial to do? Well… move apartments, course!
Now, look, I didn’t exactly plan for this to all happen this way. Even before the global pandemic came ashore the wheels were already in motion for the big move. You see, at the beginning of March I had to get a wisdom tooth removed. It was two years in the making and I had finally overcome my fear of the dentist to get it done (okay, to be fair, my tooth broke which is really what forced my hand).
I was in the process of figuring out whether to renew my lease or move, but the decision was made for me when I came home from the oral surgeon’s office to find my apartment had been broken into. Maybe it was the good drugs, or shock or something, but when I saw the door busted open (see below), I thought that maybe my landlord had an emergency and had to force his way in. So, my first call was to the landlord, then the police.
Thankfully, not much was taken. Actually, this plague helped because I had tickets to see a show that got cancelled. So, really all that the thief got was a $50 Amazon gift card that I had earmarked to buy a new toilet seat. I hope they get explosive diarrhea for it too.
The next day I set out to see apartments. It was honestly like the worst episode of “House Hunters” ever. I was able to see five apartments after in my neighborhood. I am not lying when I tell you that one of the places was so small and crowded that the realtor and I could barely move. I would not have been shocked to find like a skeleton of the woman’s dead cat or Carole Baskin’s husband. You know, either or.
By the end of the week – after having nearly two dozen friends weighing in on the two apartments I was torn between – I had put down a deposit on a two-bedroom apartment for a mid-April move in. The next day is when social distancing was introduced to everyone’s daily vernacular. Between then and the when the whole world shut down, I had to fight with my landlord to leave a month early, begin packing, figuring out all of the adult stuff of finding a mover, switching utilities and everything like that. You would think a landlord would have a little bit of empathy, especially when they are just looking to renovate the building and jack up the rent as we move out.
On one hand, being trapped at home in quarantine was great because when I wasn’t working, I was able to pack. But at the same time, I got so much packing done early that there wasn’t very much to do during quarantine.
Oh, and did I mention that with everything shut down my moving company closed and didn’t tell me? Yup, two weeks ago I found out when a friend sent a post from Facebook by one of their other customers. I guess because there aren’t many people crazy enough to move during the plague, it wasn’t hard to find a new moving company.
So, the big day finally came last Monday. I triple confirmed with the new moving company that they were, in fact, going to be coming. For the first time ever, I got a little verklempt about moving. A lot has happened over the last four years that I had been in that apartment, and I had grown a lot during that time. With the move it felt like the end of chapter closing. Not exactly the ending I would have preferred, had I written it myself, but an ending, nonetheless.
It took forever. With my usual movers (the ones who were closed), I have always been done and into the new place by noon. This time it took until 2 o’clock and the main guy found everything to be a problem – from the way I had put together my bedframe to getting some of the furniture into the apartment. My favorite part was at the end when his electric drill was dying before he put my front door back on and was planning to just leave without putting it back on. Because, you know, I don’t need a front door or anything…
In the end, I made into my new apartment and all of the rooms are already functioning, though not fully put together. I noticed something odd the day after the move. I found myself more stir crazy in my new, larger apartment than I was in my old apartment. My theory? Moving day felt like almost any normal day. I had been given a taste of normalcy (albeit with masks) and then it was taken away again. I was given a one-day, get out of quarantine jail card and it was glorious. There was human interaction and a sense of normal, everyday life. I even saw a friend, who graciously brought over an electric drill. And there was no cooking!
Dear god, if nothing else, not having to cook for a whole day was one of the best parts.
Padraic Maroney hails from upstate New York, suffering from middle child syndrome. His writing career began after moving to the Philadelphia suburbs while in high school. He wrote for The Bucks County Courier Times’ Reality section, written by local teenagers, and has the distinction of writing a weekly gossip column for a college newspaper at a school he didn’t even attend! His love of pop culture led him to intern at Teen People, where he met Janis Gaudelli, and realized he could turn being a millennial into a career. Since then he’s alternated between writing and marketing, but always focused on Millennials and everything they bring to the table. Padraic is a lover of shenanigans, 80s music, and the movie “Scream.”
You can follow his additional adventures on Instagram: @padraicjacob