He thought he could move in one day. He had always been able to move in one day before. This is not to say that he'd have his entire place unpacked, but everything from the truck would be unloaded into the new space.

This was the first time he couldn't empty the truck all in one go. He'd wake up to more boxes to unload. Things had changed. It was hotter and more humid, yes, and he was older, that was true, but the true difference that mattered this time was that he had so much more stuff.

All of his moves before this been when as a

college

 

student

living on a 

peanut butter

 

budget

. But he'd lived in his old apartment for four years now. And during that time he somehow accumulated enough stuff that he couldn't move it all in a single day. At least now without help.

He remembered as a kid when his family moved to the house his parents currently lived in today they had even more stuff but were able to do the move in a single day. There were three other families that helped, and of course they weren't going to all sleepover and pick up the work the following morning. Constraints dictated that they accomplish the task before sunset.

There had been many desks and a table and even a large piano. But the four adult men were able to move it altogether. He could still remember what his dad wore that afternoon. A yellow longsleeve sweater. It was kind of chilly. But he had rolled the sleeves up halfway on his forearms as he sweated through the move. His dad had looked so strong that evening.

Now he was moving himself and four years worth of stuff alone. Some people he knew had offered to help but he didn't want to force them to make the five hour drive. He'd feel bad, and he didn't have any money to pay them to make up for it. That was the bad thing about being poor. You couldn't simply pay your friends to help you. Or better yet pay for help so that you didn't need to force your friends to help.

But when he thought about that afternoon that turned into evening... the four families moving his family into the parents' current residence, he couldn't imagine anybody there wanting to do anything else other than helping with the move. It was strange now that he was an adult he was constantly thinking about what he was supposed to be doing and what he wished he was doing instead. Back when he was a kid he never though adults thought of such things. He still found it hard to believe that the adults he grew up around were constantly running the same calculus inside their heads.

In a way he chose not to believe it. It seemed more feasible that adults back then magically didn't think in such ways and that times had changed. His generation were the pussies who couldn't figure out what they wanted, and when they did figure it out they refused to go for it, whatever it was, because they were scared of other people judging them.

His 

parents

' generation was simpler. Your friend was moving, you went and helped and you didn't bellyache about how you would rather be watching 

House of Cards

or playing video games. Granted back then TV wasn't as good as it was now, and you couldn't binge it as easily. Video games weren't as good either. Maybe they were just more bored and thus the activity of helping others move or cook dinner seemed more alluring. Maybe. He didn't know. He could only imagine.

Although his kitchen was still unpacked, that morning he could still make himself 

coffee

, for all he needed was heat. He placed water into the bottom compartment of his 

Bialetti

and then placed the filter on top. Then he scooped some pre-ground French Roast into it. Finally he screwed shut the top compartment and placed it on the small coils at the front of his new electric stove. Four minutes or so later he heard the sound of the coffee bubbling and it was time. The morning's coffee.

No matter how hot it was. Or how alone he found himself in a completely different city with nobody to call on, he could call on this one thing. A good cup of morning joe.

He sipped it while staring out the window. He was on the third floor so he had a good view. The trees were so tall that it felt like he was in a treehouse, Those were some of the perks to balance out the fact that it was hot as an oven in the summer.

Usually you would move someplace because you had a connection there. Maybe someone worked at a department with an opening and they would refer you. Something like that. But he found himself with an opportunity not landed through anybody he knew. Instead he had gotten his calling to this no-name town through a job posting he had seen on 

Indeed

.

It was the 

neoliberal

way. Apply for a job at a department you had never heard of before, to work with people you had never known existed, in a city you had never heard of before. 

Westcity

, What kind of name was that for a city anyway? It always made him laugh when a place called itself by it's own noun. Like Center Village. Such sounded so fake, like it was a part of a children's book or an unapologetically kitsch ad.

He had looked the place up online before accepting the job offer. He picked up the habit of checking the

subreddit

for Westcity just to get a feel for the place. He lurked and saw conversations people had. Mostly questions and answers about favorite places to eat, good places to live, the type of hobbies people had and where to do them, and complaints about the local institutions.

Lurking there made him almost feel like a part of the community. He liked the vibe. Part of the reason why he accepted the job. If he had gotten the sense that Westcity was some culture-less pit he most certainly wouldn't have accepted and moved here.

He already had a friend-base back home. His previous job wasn't terrible. Why leave it all unless you think that the new place has some greener grass, no?

His coffee was near the end. Now was the time to finally go outside and finish the move.