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The scene: I’m chowing down on frites and polishing off a cider in a biergarten. Back at my new house, movers are unloading 119 exhaustively labeled boxes. I didn’t set foot in my old house that morning while they loaded up — instead, I found myself leisurely tying up some loose ends ahead of the renovation of our new home.
How was this miracle possible, you ask?
There are angels among us — people on this earth who help others with the most stressful event many of us go through. They’re called move managers, and I didn’t sell my house until I was certain we could clear enough to pay for the service.
Our manager, Kim Jones of Lock & Key Home in Louisville, Kentucky, and author of The No-Nonsense Home Organization Plan, launched the business after going through a nightmare of a move herself. Her passion for organizing and empathy for the emotional difficulties of a move make her like a fairy godmother.
Was it expensive? Yes. Was it worth it? One million percent yes.
Here’s how it worked. A few weeks before our move, Kim did a walk-through of our old house and then the new one. A day or so later, she emailed a quote that included a full pack and move day service plus a complete unpack and organizing of the new house. We dialed it back to only one day of unpack service with a kitchen focus, but she still provided organization consulting for the new house — which clocked in at a quarter the size of our old Victorian. Altogether, hiring the move manager cost a little over 1 percent of my new home’s sale price. Compared to the $36,000 in Realtor commissions that weren’t negotiable — and considering how much actual work they did — it felt like a bargain.
It was weird at first, but I didn’t pack anything other than a select few personal items leading up to the move. Instead, we got to just keep … living there. We were able to have friends visit for a weekend shortly before the move and cook together one last time. At risk of sounding maudlin, it was super important to us to create that last memory there.
One week out, Kim’s team of six showed up bright and early wielding color-coded Post-its, sheaves of moving paper, tons of boxes, and Sharpies and tape galore. I stuck around to help note what would go where. By mid-afternoon, dozens of boxes were neatly stacked around the house.
We lived among the boxes for a few days. Then two days out from the move, on her advice, we checked into a hotel, which was the best — and most necessary — self-care I can imagine. I mostly steered clear after that point, partly because they didn’t need me, and partly because it was really hard leaving our home and I couldn’t stand to watch.
On move day I still had work to do at the new house, so I left everything in the manager’s hands. She brought snacks and drinks for the movers, and lunch for us, and called or texted the few times she had a question. By early afternoon, the truck rolled up at our new home and I told Kim I had to run to the hotel — I’d thrown my back out overdoing it at the new house and needed some medication. “Go back and lay down,” she said, “we can FaceTime if I need you.”
We stayed a final night at the hotel (also at Kim’s suggestion) and arrived after a leisurely brunch the next day to find all the kitchen boxes unpacked and her team of three deciding where the contents would go. Somehow, despite moving from a larger kitchen with a huge walk-in pantry into a small house with an eat-in kitchen that doubles as a laundry room, they got nearly everything put away. The excess gadgets and such were stowed, neatly labeled, in the storage shed.
This move was really tough: I questioned my decision to sell our house from the moment we went under contract. The renovation of our 140-year-old new place was also wildly challenging, and the closing on our house went off the rails for a few days. The ray of light in all of this? I didn’t have to worry about the actual physical move. Not only would it have taken weeks for the two of us to pack up a big house on our own, but there were also zero hours left in the day after running the reno and working. And thanks to some old sports injuries, I can’t do a lot of physical work myself.
I’m a fan for life, if that’s not clear yet. How big a fan? This house is a temporary stop until we figure out our next long-term home. My first call when we’re ready to move? You already know.
