On Moving House

Last night, my brother and I helped my sister move.

She had it all pretty neatly packed into the van so for the most part it was pretty painless. Just a matter of unloading boxes, putting them in the lift then taking them out of the lift. All was rosy until we ran into the classic moving house problem:

The table wouldn’t fit in the door.

It was bloody close, but regardless of how many ways we shimmied, rotated, and shoved, it simply wasn’t gonna go. We could get it far enough to chip paint of the walls and become thoroughly wedged, but it wasn’t gonna make it the whole way through.


Why is it that this happens every single time you try to move furniture? It’s like the furniture designers of the world have gotten together with the architects to fuck with everybody else. If we make this couch just a little bit wider than that door it’ll be brilliant!

After a solid 15 minutes of planning, gesturing, pivoting and failing between my sister’s boyfriend, her new house-mate, my brother and I we realised that it was the door itself that was causing problems so we settled on the only logical solution:

We’ll take the door off its hinges and move it out of the way.

Thankfully we had a power-drill with a screwdriver attachment so this was all going swimmingly until we ran into another classic amateur handyman problem:

One of the screws became stripped* when it was halfway out.

Why does this always happen? Why are screws made of such shitty soft metal?

We tried to gain extra purchase with blu-tac and paper towel, we tried to use the power drill as a manual screwdriver and we tried lever it out with the doorjamb. None of it worked.

We did realise however that the because all of the other screws were out and because the remaining screw was sufficiently loose, we could now move the door far enough out of the way that we could squeeze the table through and complete our mission. We screwed the door back in (including one very wonky screw) and both brownie and man-points accrued to all.

All-in-all — a pretty successful move!

Let me know what you think — what was your worst moving story or greatest moving success?


*Note: for those with even less handyman skills than me (an embarrassingly low bar) this just means that the notches on the screw where the screwdriver sits had worn away and so it was no longer catching but instead just forlornly sliding around and around while the screw stayed firmly in place

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