If you have school-aged kids, move during the school year, not during the summer. Surprised? Here's why this is the best way:
Buying your new home in the next town. Don't. Don't buy a house in the new town. Rent for a year if you possibly can. This is hard to decide to do. No, this is really, really hard to decide to do. The impulse to get it over with, to get back to normal, is so strong -- we've been there. Repeatedly. Rent for a year, anyway. I know, the prices will go up, you want the kids to stay in their new school, you hate the thought of moving again, etc. One year. Try it and you'll never do it the other way again. Even if you grew up in the town you're moving to, rent for a year. It is hard to list all the reasons why, especially since so many of them by themselves sound so much less compelling than that urge for stability. Here are a few, anyway:
Where to find a one-year rental "But,"
you'll say (we always did), "we have pets, we have kids, who
would rent to us?" We were in that same position, and the simplest
answer was "student housing" near the local university. Ask yourself,
"If I were
a landlord, would I rather rent to a stable couple with a well-trained
dog, or four freshmen away from home for the first time?" He'll rent to
you in a heartbeat. If you need to take some courses to get that next
job, you're right there. And university areas are accustomed to people
coming and going, so there are some facilities there oriented to
temporary residents.
Save the best for last. The rule in loading trucks is: Last on, first off. So, make sure that the stuff you're going to need first is the last stuff to go on the truck. Things that need to be at the back of the truck:
Transporting your stuff
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The professionals in this arena (U-Haul,
Ryder) will give you plenty of tips on packing and carting and all the
usual considerations -- except the human considerations. You know, all
those people that you're going to owe big for helping you move?
When you're moving out, you do all your work before your workers show up -- that is, putting anything you can possibly live without into a labeled box, and carrying it to your staging area. A garage is a wonderful staging area: great big door, no carpeting to worry about, the driveway goes right up to it, and there are no stairs between the driveway and the truck. Since you're moving out, and this stuff is by definition stuff you don't need right away, it can go on the front of the truck. When it goes on the from the truck, then that clears your staging area for all the bulky stuff that you don't want out in the rain while everyone stands and scratches their head about how to pack the truck.
Heavy stuff:
small boxes, light stuff: big boxes.This
seems too obvious to mention, but here's whyt we think it must not be.
One lady moved a refrigerator box into the
middle of her kitchen floor, and filled it with canned goods, cast iron
cooking gear, etc. It was absolutely unmoveable -- it weighed
800 lbs, minimum.
Those lovely, big boxes that toilet tissue and paper towels ship in? That's about all they're good for: don't fill them with books. Pillows, maybe, or a lampshade, but not cast iron footstools, boots, glassware, tools, or anything else that's heavy for its size -- they will instantly disintegrate and drop the load. Better no box at all.
On a local move, resist the temptation to maximize the load -- make another trip. Head scratching time is the biggest factor that makes loading so much slower than unloading. If it's a local move, then consider that you may very well be able to drive to the new place, unload, and return in the time that you spend trying to figure out how to make enough room on that load for one more piece of furniture. Consider also, that trying to crowd one more piece of furniture onto a loader truck is a big source of damage during a move.
If it's a long distance move, plan on a lot of head scratching time and a good staging area. A good staging area, under cover, lets your "hunter gatherers" keep working while your "truck packers" are scratching their heads. It would even be worthwhile to get one of those yard tents at Sam's Club, just for use as a staging area.
Believe it or not to, you need to look ready
to move. I showed up to help with a move and the Lady of
the house was in house slippers frying some sausage for breakfast, and
loading the washing machine with clothes. I wanted to weep. I asked,
"Did I get the wrong
day?"
Most of her helpers left without carrying a
single load because
they got so tired waiting around for her last load to wash, get dry,
get
folded, and get put into the drawers. Couldn't unhook the washer,
couldn't unhook the dryer, couldn't carry the dressers out, couldn't
unhook the stove, couldn't take the clothes out (she had not packed),
and had unwashed dishes to deal with besides.
Get someone to watch
the pre-teen kids. She was serving those
sausages two or three
children (all under 10) have who were staying to 'help'. The youngest,
three, helped me at one point by darting out behind me while I was
backing onto the stairs with a chest of drawers. It could have
been death for me, or her, or both. Moving is dangerous -- it's not for
kids. Frankly, it's not
for me, either, if there are unsupervised children in the house. I'll
leave; don't even ask.
Be kind to your helpers I: When you're moving out, you need to designate your helpers' tasks.
Be kind to your helpers II: Your job is supervision. Period. It is absolutely maddening to be standing in the doorway with your arms full of an awful lot of pounds of God-knows-what, waiting for the owner to come out of the back bedroom where he has carried a lamp. And if it makes me crazy, what about all those people behind me with their arms full of a whole lot of pounds of God-knows-what, too?
No, I'll say it again: you are a supervisor. No matter how tempting it would be to take one little load and put it where you want it, have some pity on all those people who are trying to help you. Stay at the doorway and tell them where to go.
Be kind to your helpers III: Organize the traffic We have found that the biggest impediment to a rapid move is the counterflow of empty-handed people. And we have found that the biggest source of fatigue is the stairs.
Perhaps a
short description of "the wrong way" to move out will help clarify the
problem. Visualize it:
The "right way" goes back at least to the 17th century; it is called the fire brigade. Make a line of your strongest helpers all the way from the moving van to the top of your stairs. Have the rest of your helpers gather items from all the upstairs rooms and bring them to the fire brigade. The fire brigade passes them hand-to-hand all the way out to the truck. No empty-handed people passing one another, and no one climbing the stairs. You'll never do it the other way again.
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Any good book about moving will tell you the
basics of how to hire a
mover, what to watch out for, what the move should cost, etc. Again,
though, most of those books were written by moving professionals --
that is, people who want you to hire them. What they leave out are the
unpleasant facts about hiring a mover -- any mover.
The pleasant
fact: your stuff will be moved, usually without
damage or loss
The unpleasant
fact: but with no organization
whatsoever. Movers work like this:
Let me illustrate with the kitchen. Let's say that there is a pair of boots next to the door, and the next item moving around the room is your spice rack. You will arrive at your destination with a box labeled "boots" and containing one pair of boots and all your spices, or the same contents but labeled "jars." If you're lucky, the person packing your kitchen will know something about cookery and will label the box "spices", but you still can't find your boots.
And, if you're not in the room, the box may go in the center of the room and be loaded simultaneously by four packers carrying things from all around the room. Things won't even be with things that were near them in your old place. Now, you won't be able to stop this completely, and yes, you are in for some startling surprises at the far end, but you can help a little.
Ask your helpers to come and watch the movers. You don't need to watch them carry things; they are very good at that. And, by their own lights, they're very good at packing up -- as we said before, damage is very unusual and so is loss. All the same, having someone in the room when they're packing will help them to do a good job of labeling and packing in an organized fashion as well. Do not expect the movers to be happy that you are so helpful, or that you have so many friends. Your help may slow them down a little -- but it will really make your life easier at the far end.
If you have any small things organized, pack them yourself. Yes, the movers will mark them "packed by owner", and will refuse to pay for any damage, but at least you can label the boxes properly. Think -- are they really that breakable? Be aware -- the movers do not consider "utterly scrambled" to be a form of damage. Let's take, for example, a sewing box full of buttons, needles, spools of thread, etc. How will the movers handle this? Maybe put it in another box, fill the box with other items, label it "boots," and put it on the truck oriented so that everything falls into the lid of the sewing notions box. Now, nothing is damaged, but you may be hours, if not years, getting things reorganized (once you realize what "boots" means in this particular case.)
If they're not things that will actually break, pack them yourself.
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Go
to church. It is the quickest way to meet a lot
of solid citizens
with no real axe to grind. Yes, they'll want you to join. (So do I, for
that matter). But most churches are accustomed to a steady stream of
newcomers "church shopping." Want to know the good dentist, mechanic,
Realtor? Ask those people at church. There is a significant
chance that they'll just want to help with no strings attached. They
may even recommend some
other church where they think you would fit right in. Having trouble
with culture shock? Go to Sunday school as well -- no better place to
find out what people think, what motivates them, the good and the bad.
And
since they've probably been arguing and contradicting each other for
years, you'll probably hear both sides of any issue right away.
Look at welcomewagon.com. They have an ax to grind, but it's right up front. Local merchants want to know that you're there. They will give you a lot of free stuff in exchange for knowing that you're there. Well, why not? Remember, you're a renter. They are only going to know your address for the first year or so, until you move into your permanent house. In the meantime, you have their free stuff -- and you have to shop somewhere, anyway.
Moving from a
big place into a small place. I don't know how to make this
easy. Less awful, perhaps, but not easy.
Start back at your old place -- be absolutely
ruthless. Get a big dumpster (having plenty of room encourages
ruthlessness.) Now throw everything you own away. You may ONLY rescue
those things that you've used within the last year (be honest!), or
that are irreplaceable and can't be donated somewhere for a tax
writeoff. (Yard sales eat up enormous amounts of time that you don't
have, for an tremendous hassle and far less money than you'd make
writing stuff off as a donation.)
Dimensionally small, high value stuff you keep;
dimensionally large, low value stuff you pitch or give away. Your scrap
lumber isn't going with you, unless it's ebony or something. Your
leftover acrylic yarn scraps? Out they go. A lampshade you never really
liked? Goner. The old coat you wear once a year to hang the Christmas
lights? Donate it and buy another at Goodwill when you get there. Sheer
bulk is the enemy; make it pay its way.
At your new place -- this is a situation where
you'll need a staging area when you're moving in; normally, you only
need one when you're moving out and trying to figure out how to load
the truck. If possible, designate at least one room inside the new
place as storage -- this for items of value that you can't leave out on
the lawn or in an unlocked shed or under a tent for a night or two.
Here's where "first on, last off loading" pays
off as well. You put everything you need to live (which was on the back
of the truck, correct?) right where it's going to go. Now the rest of
the process is both simple and hair-tearing hard: trying to pile
everything so that you can still get to the stuff you need --
literally, your beds, bedding, toiletries, tools, and maybe the
refrigerator.
One tricky part about moving into smaller
quarters that caught me by surprise: the boxes from your old place will
be labeled "Boots -- spare room," or "Misc -- third bedroom." Now, you
don't have a spare room or a third bedroom, so the movers don't know
where to put things. You have to make a lot
of decisions about combining living spaces on the fly, so stay near the
doorway and help the movers on a box by box basis.
Your storage will be stacked against the walls
with a corridor down the middle for access. When that's full,
everything else will go in
the middle of the rooms in your living space. That let's you get to
all the stuff you use more frequently, which was put all
around the walls. Now that you're in there, you will realize what
"ruthless" actually means and throw out/donate a whole bunch more
stuff. Then, and only then, are you ready to rent a storage
building.
I know, you hoped for more, but that's the best
I can do.
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Never hire a friend to sell your
house. You're
almost inevitably going to end up hating your Realtor, so why lose a
friend? It is not that your Realtor is crooked, or your enemy, or a bad
person. "Your" Realtor is a businessperson. As such, the Realtor has
three loyalties; two that they tell you about, and one that they never,
ever mention.
They will tell you readily that they work for the seller. In fact, by law in some states they must tell you that, since regardless which party, buyer or seller, they represent, the sales price of the house determines their commission. And this is very true. Most buyer's agents are quite conscientious as well, in our experience. There is just one loyalty that you need to keep in mind, because it is the highest loyalty of all, and it is one they dare not ever acknowledge.
A realtor's
real loyalty: Let's say that your house sells for $100,000, and
you clear $20,000
on it. Now, if you hold out for the absolute maximum, it might go for
$110,000. You make $30,000 instead of $20,000. 50% better for you, but
what
does it do for the realtor? At a 7 percent commission, the Realtor
grosses $7000 on the $100,000 base price, and on a $110,000 house, the
Realtor gets a paltry $700
more. Which number is more important? $7000
or $700? Even a mediocre
deal for you will give the realtor $7000.
Oh, they'll take the $700 if they can get it without too much risk or effort-- they do work for the seller to that extent. But remember that their first loyalty is to the deal -- ANY deal. If they bust their fanny; if they hold out for the highest possible price, they might get $700 more. They could very easily spend every bit of that trying to get the extra $10,000 out of the seller. Or they could lose the deal altogether because their contract times out. Would you risk a sure $7000 for a chance of $7700 or nothing? Or spending three more months and several hundred dollars to get $7000 in the end anyway? Well, neither will they. Their real 'first loyalty' is to any deal at all, just as it would be yours if you were in their shoes.
A realtor's
biggest blind spot: One big surprise that we found moving
interstate -- there is very little uniformity in real estate law
between the states. Your realtor probably has never moved interstate:
part of their value to you as their knowledge of local conditions.
That's a blessing and a curse -- because the better they know their
local
conditions, the less likely they are to realize that you don't know
their local conditions. Remember -- they've never moved
interstate.
Here's an example: In Pennsylvania, a deal
cannot close until the house is empty and swept "broom clean". People
actually drive the moving van to the closing. In Ohio, the deal closes, and then the previous occupants have
some limited time to move out.
Well, what if they don't? In Ohio, you have (or had, it's been a while)
no recourse whatsoever. Our kids spent the summer in a tent because the
lady just absolutely wouldn't get out of the house we bought from
her.
The point is, your realtor almost certainly does not realize that you don't know. They really had no idea that you're assuming anything different, because they don't know anything about the real estate law where you come from. In this case, they would help you if they could, but they can't. Just be prepared to ask a lot of "dumb" questions so that you avoid the worst of the surprises. If you know anyone else (in your company, say, or at your new church) who made the same move, their words are like golden apples in a silver bowl.