Well, that's what I did this past weekend. I looked at my office upstairs and thought it would be a breeze to carry down the odds and ends of my writing life to the downstairs bedroom. My son and son-in-law arrived promptly at ten on Saturday and they managed to carry downstairs: one six foot wooden desk, a six foot tall computer hutch, a treadmill, printer stand, and two bookshelves. They moved a bed upstairs to the vacated office. Made it look like nothing at all.
Guess I must be getting old. I began moving boxes full of books, and research material from that office on Friday night and filled up the family room. On Saturday morning I finished moving out the remainder of the stuff into our bedroom and then took apart the bed and moved it to the family room. Tell you what. I worked from 4pm on Saturday through 10pm before calling it quits. Then I started again after church at 2pm and worked until 8pm before I finished moving all that stuff back into my "new" office and finding a place for it.
My body is screaming at me that I will NEVER DO THIS AGAIN. And, I won't. My office is on the lower level to stay...forever.
I stand by a statement I made after we moved to this property in 1984...if I ever move again...everything goes. I get all new furniture, clothing, etc. It's the only way you'll get me to budge from here.
How does one accumulate so much stuff? And an even bigger question...how does one pack that much sand into such a small box?