Would you be at all surprised to hear that packing up one’s life to move is stressful, tear-filled, and heart-breaking? Yeah, I didn’t think so. That it takes days and days to go through all your stuff until you have whittled down to the almost essentials but there are so many things you wish not to part with (like the super-comfy just barely 2-years-old furniture or the dozens of books purchased but not yet read or, most importantly, the amazing circle of friends you’ve developed and still feel after knowing some nearly 3 years [four years!?! it feels like 6-months {In a good way}] that you have just barely begun to see most of the facets of and could go on knowing, hanging out with and loving for the rest of the years of your life) even though you have to, and that it pisses you off to know you are dropping plans with people you love in order to have strangers rifle through personal belongings and snear at the quality, condition, or price.