Oh man, moving stuff can be great. It's such an adventure to help other people move; you get to look at all the crap they have and also wonder how on Earth they moved in to begin with. I'm fairly certain some houses are built around some feature that is impossible to move in or out of the home.
For example, I was helping a friend move some stuff around and after moving all the easy stuff, we finally got the grand-daddy of the room - a grotesque desk weighing approximately as much as a dump truck and smelling/looking about as bad. The desk, as we found out, was made out of pure unobtainium and there was no foreseeable way to deconstruct the desk peacefully. No nails were hanging around, no attached joints. It seemed to have been carved out of one big ass tree and plopped in corner of the room, never to be moved ever again.
After much deliberation, we finally "took it apart", very graphically and loudly, with the help of our friend Mr. Crowbar and moved it broken piece by piece to the back of her car to be taken to its final resting place. Amazingly enough, each little tiny piece was still inexplicably heavy and it was a grueling task to carry even boards the size of two by fours.
Another exciting moment in moving came when it was time to replace my friend's dishwasher, which they never used. I never asked them why before, but as soon as it was opened it became very quickly evident why. The entire inside was filled with a disgusting swill, greenish-brown with the consistency of heavy diarrhea and a stench perfectly matching its horrible appearance. Once again, after much deliberation, we decided to simply let the swill wash out into our carefully placed barriers which would collect it and then require minimal floor mopping.
Bad idea, of course, and the swill gets all over the kitchen floor, giving the entire house an unmistakable odor for the next several weeks. But if that wasn't bad enough, there was still plenty of swill that didn't pour out but was also not visible that poured all over our shoes when we tried to carry it. And then there was the problem of getting rid of it: "No way in hell that thing's going in my car", my friend says.
So we walk with it to where it needs to be dropped off, a good 1/2 mile from the house in the pouring rain with swill slowly dripping all over our pants and feet.
God, moving shit is great.
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