Settling Into a Reduced Living Space

A GUIDE TO MOVING

by Willma Willis Gore

Experienced as I was with the requirements of moving my household, I still had much to learn—and gain—from my latest move. Since the move was from my own apartment to a bedroom in my friend Allison’s home, I had to eliminate all but the most efficient pieces of furniture. The furnishings in my apartment living room, bedroom, bath and kitchen, a total of approximately 450 square feet, had to be reduced to fit a room and bath that totaled about 250 square feet. I didn’t need a measuring tape to tell me that much had to go.

Vital to my daily needs were my desk, file cabinets, chest of drawers and a bed. My small entertainment center, bookcases, and a mahogany cabinet were also essentials as far as I was concerned, but the sofa, end tables, matched occasional chairs, and large lamps—all desirable in furnishing an apartment—needed to be sold or to go new homes.

Happily, I would no longer need pots, pans and dishes as I would have the use of Allison’s large kitchen. As it turned out, the next tenant to occupy my apartment purchased most of my kitchen supplies. Allison’s laundry facilities would also be available to me. This was a distinct advantage as I’d had been using a Laundromat during my tenancy in the apartment, a chore that always took time that I resented spending on it.

Decisions, Decisions

I knew where the end tables and the occasional chairs would go. They were destined for the daughter in Southern California, who had spoken for them at Mom’s Loot Party long before. Transporting them to her was the next problem. When I priced the cost of shipping them by UPS or rail freight, shock set in. She could have purchased new pieces for less. The clerk at UPS suggested that I find a friend with a truck or van who could carry them. Great idea, but who?

We’ve all heard the admonition, “It’s who you know…” Most such references pertain to career advancement but, for me, those whom I know are the vast number of people I’ve met in other than career-oriented venues.

When The Palms became too expensive for me and I began looking for different quarters, I learned of an apartment that was perfect for my needs at a meeting of fellow volunteers. Lesson: “Ask, and ye shall receive.” This belief was tested frequently in the ensuing months.

I searched my mind for other names in a wide range of contacts I’d made in the community. The young man who had rewired my apartment for my computer had told me he made frequent trips to Los Angeles. I called him and the deal was made. For less than half the UPS shipping cost, he carried the end tables and chairs on his next trip south in his van.

One son requested the cedar chest that had been a gift from my parents for my high school graduation. I was happy to keep it in the family and he came to get it. The thrift shop gained woolen sweaters I’d stored in the chest but rarely wore since moving to the warm climate.

Then there was the matter of my desk—metal with file drawers and a heavy super structure of shelves. It had followed me through the last eight moves and was in good condition but it would not fit into the new room if I were to have space for much else.

I advertised it for sale, planning to replace it with a smaller, more efficient unit. Not a single response came. Worse, neither the Salvation Army nor the local thrift shop would come for it. “Too heavy; liability risk…” Even if I had the skill and tools to dismantle it for the refuse truck, it hurt me to think of its winding up in the dump.

One week before move day, as I passed the local Barnes & Noble, I recalled that a number of the sales staff there were college students. Would someone there with the muscle to move it need my desk? I approached a young girl clerk, described the desk and asked if she knew anyone who might need it.

“I do,” she beamed.

I gave her the desk in exchange for hauling it away. In addition, because she was looking for other furnishings for the house she was moving into, she purchased my coffee table, the chest of drawers, and a utility bookshelf.

The sofa and lamps were not a problem. One friend was furnishing a large home and could use them for her den.

Freeing Up Files

My two four-drawer file cabinets, each four and a half feet tall, were filled to the top, yet they were too bulky for the new quarters. They stored canceled checks, property records, insurance papers, family letters, and “precious” clippings. I’d stacked magazines and saved newspaper sections, always promising to sort, but never getting to the job. Now was the time.

We are advised to save canceled checks for five years. I had done so, but on a tip from my accountant I spent a half day going through these and destroyed all but the few that documented the items I had declared as deductible on my tax returns. This reduced five shoeboxes to an envelope.

My long writing career has produced hundreds of manuscripts, many unpublished, but worthy, I feel, of saving for possible future reference. One computer-guru son has advised me for years to “get rid of paper.” The only manuscripts I needed to save in paper form were those from pre-computer days. A day of weeding reduced these files by half. By concentrating on this organizing task until it was finished, I managed to consolidate important files into one cabinet. From the stacks of magazines and newspapers, I took the time to clip what I needed to save and threw out the bulky balance of these journals. I discarded the recipes I’d stored during this year I’d been again cooking for myself. Allison would be doing most of the cooking and had as many recipe books as either of us would ever need.

Saved greeting cards are another space hog. It always seems a waste to throw away these beautiful emblems of love. For years I have separated the art on Christmas cards from the personal messages. These I recycle as postcards at Christmas time. Cheap? Yes, they can be mailed at the postcard rate and I hope they brand me as a dedicated recycler—not a niggardly correspondent. Greeting cards for all seasons and birthdays are collected by charity organizations and used in art projects for children. Your library can direct you to these.

Sentimentality vs. Practicality

Sometimes there are things we just can’t part with. A friend my age was seeking an apartment and when I told her I would be vacating mine, she came to see it. She loved it—until she saw the bedroom. While it housed my desk, single bed, file cabinets, dresser and my cedar chest, it was deemed much too small. Its total floor space was about the size of the canopied bed and headboard combination she loved and would not part with.

My own sentimentality came to the fore in several art pieces. I was fortunate that Allison admired two large framed watercolors painted by a mutual friend. I did not have to give them up. They now grace the walls of her spacious living room and I continue to enjoy them every day.

However, I had other art I wanted to keep—mainly the framed photos of children and grandchildren that had surrounded me on shelves, night stands, desk top and book cases for years. Several enlargements hung in apartment living room, bedroom and hall. The walls in my new room were mainly windows and the other space against them was needed for my desk, TV and dresser. The answer came when I passed a window display in a department store. A giant bulletin board held the photos of employees. Good idea! I removed my family members from their frames. They now greet me daily from the space-efficient bulletin board hanging above the chest of drawers in my office/bedroom/living room. Allison welcomed my discarded frames. She uses them to hold the watercolors she paints and gives to friends and family.

Still, I had other precious things I did not want to part with. These included wood carvings made by one son; some ceramic pieces, a dozen albums of photos and a like number of metal cases housing photo transparencies that record my family’s history.

This totaled about sixty cubic feet of goods of importance only to me. If I didn’t decide how and where to store these valuables before moving day, I would have to stack them in the middle of my new room and hurdle the heap to get into bed.

In need of a small housewarming gift—a plant for Allison’s garden—I visited a store that sold both nursery and building supplies. Wandering its spacious yard among the plants and trees for sale, I found an azalea bush for Allison and—more important—the answer to my storage needs. It was a weatherproof, heavy-duty plastic bin with a lid and wing doors in front. It would accommodate all the extras that I could not fit into my new room.

With Allison’s permission, this large bin was delivered to her property. It sits beside the house in back in an unobtrusive location. As a precaution against mildew, I wrapped and sealed in plastic all items stored in this bin. A small additional purchase of a lock and hasp to secure the box and I was all set.

Help Is Everywhere

Overall, when you don’t know how, where, when or what—ask! Most people—probably you included—delight in sharing knowledge gleaned from their life experiences. Your sources of information do not have to be relatives or friends. They can be neighbors, local educational institutions, your pharmacist, or the clerk at the grocery store. Answers come from surprising sources.

Some of my most valuable contacts have been made through my hairdresser. The numbers of people who share their joys and woes with their beautician or barber make these people virtual encyclopedias of useful information. Almost every person you meet in today’s changing world has moved at one time or another and has a warning or a triumph in his repertoire of moving experiences.

From addresses and phone numbers to yearly rainfalls, nearly any information you want is available on the Internet. If you do not own a computer to access this vast body of knowledge and information, ask your local research librarian for help. These Internet-savvy personnel are trained to pluck answers from worldwide sources. Most can print what they find for you to take with you.

Movers‚ Summary

Hundreds of options in geographic locations, types of housing, companions, and recreations are open to us all.

The national publication Mature Living Choices lists more than 1,200 communities in forty-six regional booklets that span the country geographically. These housing options are geared to the special interests of retirees. More such communities are being built every day.

Obviously, hiring professional movers has much to be recommended. If you don’t have the time or desire to pack or manage the move on your own, and the cost is acceptable, turn the whole project over to a moving company. This should make for a quicker and easier move. Your only stress may come with paying the bill.

If you decide to do most of the packing and the transport of your goods yourself, your efforts will likely take place over a period of time, ranging from a few days to a few weeks.

It is both fortunate and challenging that not one of us knows what tomorrow will bring. Change is the only guaranteed constant in life. And, moving a household is one of the major changes. Look on it as an adventure and enjoy the experience.

With such a bounty of choices, you, too, may want to request that all correspondents “just pencil me in,” so as not to ruin a whole page in their address books.

Happy moves to you!

Excerpted from Just Pencil Me In by Wilma Willis Gore. Copyright © 2002 by Wilma Gore. Excerpted by arrangement with Quill Driver Books. $12.95. Available in local bookstores or call 800-497-4909 or click here.