Why Sam Armytage’s moving day had her in tears
”While no-one really wants to help you move, plenty of people like to give you advice,” writes Sam Armytage. In her own words, the Sunrise host laments the trials and tribulations of moving houses.
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“I’d love to help you move.” Said no-one. Ever. I just moved house and it was, as you’d expect, foul. Now, I’m a Virgo. Yes, it’s “Virgo season” – remember I wrote a column last year on all these birthdays that take place nine months after New Year’s Eve? – so happy birthday to me!
It means I’m supremely organised and love nothing more than turning chaos into order. I’ve also Marie Kondo’d my life during COVID to within an inch of its life.
So you’d think, after 44 years of collecting, I may have streamlined my possessions, as I promised myself I’d do during an epiphany in January driving out of the bushfire zone, having spent New Year’s Eve in the Narooma evacuation centre.
Well, September rolled around. And January seems a blur. My streamlining got sidelined. And my Kondo, in reality, was still a very full condo.
As they say in the classics, the best laid schemes o’ mice and men… and women who think they can do it all, and really just need to calm down and have a large gin and tonic.
I Googled “how to move house without stress” to get some tips. And they were: on moving day, lie down. Try not to cry. Cry. A lot.
Anyhoo, while no-one really wants to help you move, plenty of people like to give you advice. The main bit being that, as you work hard, you should pay someone to do all the packing for you.
Now, as a control-freak Virgo and a capable country girl, this goes against every fibre of my being. Why would I pay someone to wrap my wine glasses in butcher’s paper when I can do it perfectly well myself? (Never mind that most of them were broken on arrival.) Why would I label all the boxes properly so I know where the “linen cupboard” and “bedroom one” contents go when we get to the other end?
Why would I empty out the fridge in good time, just so I can chuck all the onion jam that I was gifted in a Christmas hamper in 2016? And why do I wait ’til just before the removalist arrives to disconnect the TV and box the twenty-thousand cords connected to it these days? (Probably so I can try to remember how they were all connected in the first place and then avoid bribing a millennial from the office to come and help me set up my Netflix. For the twenty-thousandth time.)
Even then, in a last-minute panic I just jam it all in a cardboard box anyway. If Marie Kondo could peek into that cardboard box now, I think she’d have a coronary.
In fact, she could peek into that cardboard box right now, as I’ve only managed to drag it as far as the balcony in my post-move exhaustion. Where it goes to next is anyone’s guess.
So let’s just hope this is the house I stay in for eternity. And that if you’re reading this column, I’ve actually managed to change over the utilities and have the internet connected so that I can send it to my editor. Wish me luck!
Samantha co-hosts Sunrise, 5.30am weekdays, on the Seven Network.