Moving is the worst.

For the past year, I’ve moved four times.

It’s an activity I detest. It’s something that I don’t look forward to.

However, this latest move to Atmore went smooth — real smooth.

The most recent move started out well; I woke up early and my neighbor helped me load the truck, which didn’t take long, about an hour.

Then, I drove the truck back here and my mom and I converged at my apartment at the same time.

After lunch, we started unloading.

Now, before I go any further, just know that this is the first time I’ve lived on the second level of a dwelling.

I’ve lived on the first floor for all of my life except for one summer in college, when I was in Panama City Beach, Fla.

I packed the truck in a way that we would bring in the boxes first, and then unload the big stuff last.

There were a few heavy boxes, but more light because I had a feeling that my mom would be helping me with the move.

I consider myself in pretty decent shape, but early on, I realized I have a long way to go.

But, we took frequent breaks and managed to get all of my boxes in a little more than an hour.

Then, we tackled the big stuff, like mattresses, living room chairs, etc.

We took it step by step and slowly because we didn’t want to strain ourselves.

At lunch, I told my mom that we’re going to take it slow because there’s no rush.

By the time we finished getting the last piece of furniture up the stairs, it took us more than two hours.

That’s pretty darn good.

Just to wrap it up, I am thankful that this latest move went so well and smooth at the same time.

I am thankful to have all of my stuff in another place.

I am thankful that I had good help getting over this latest move because moving is the devil.