We bought our house at the beginning of last July, and ended the lease on our old apartment at the end of July. That left us a month to move all our stuff out of the apartment.
Fortunately, we know ourselves, so we decided we were going to need more than just one month to pack and move all our stuff. So prior to July, I was boxing up all the stuff that wouldn’t care terribly about the temperature (books, stuffed animals, winter coats, etc.), and moving it out to our storage garage at the apartment complex. That way, at the very least, this stuff would be already boxed up when it came time to move, but wouldn’t be in our way before then.
This worked pretty well; come July, much of the time-consuming packing was already out of the way, so we were able to spend less time packing and more time moving. We were committed to getting everything out of the apartment by the end of July; and we did, so that large recurring payment went away after July (thus freeing up those funds to be some portion of a mortgage payment).
We were hoping to get everything out of the storage garage during July, too, but we figured that if we didn’t finish that, it wouldn’t be the end of the world (since the storage-garage rent was a whole lot less than the apartment). If we had to, so the plan went, we could keep the storage garage for an extra month, or maybe two months if we had to, while we got the last of our stuff moved out of it.
Yesterday — eight months after we moved out of the apartment — I finally got the storage garage cleaned out and the keys turned in. Oh, well…
This morning, as I lay groggily in bed before the alarm even went off, I realized that this was actually a pretty big deal. As of yesterday, we are finally and truly Moved In to our house.
(Or rather, we would be Moved In, if I pulled my car full of boxes into the garage.)
Being unpacked, of course, is an entirely different matter…