I love moving. The reason everyone is like "moving? Oh no! It is too hard, I hate it, oh no oh no oh no!" is because those are the people in charge of making the move happen, or else they are moving away from their friends, or they are worried about moving into a house they won't like because they are going to live there for ten years. And, I am not and not and not!
So for me, this move is just a change in commute time, wall arrangement, and view. The excellent part is that it is the only way a person as lazy as me can clear out all of her old/worthless things thoroughly. If it doesn't make it into the trash, you see, I'll have to put it in a box, label the box, pack the box, carry the box, store the box, carry it again, and unpack it. That brings me to the awful part: carrying things. Carry, carry, carry. That was my afternoon today. My forearms are so tired! Only them. Boxes, boxes, boxes. Stairs. More stairs, then more again. Into the wooden boxes, then repeat in reverse, then repeat in reverse of that.
And also I would like to have a house to move into. Yes, I think that would be perfect.