I hate moving. Especially to an unfamiliar city. Such as the time in 1972 when, at the age of 19, I moved into a large apartment complex in Fullerton, California.

It is Sunday night—late. Exhausted, I feel ready to sleep for 18 hours but my new job starts bright and early tomorrow. That’s when I realize my alarm clock is packed in one of the numerous unlabeled boxes scattered around the living room.

So, as I said, I hate moving. Especially when one of those same unlabeled boxes hide all of the toiletries and cosmetics I’ll need in the morning to help me look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for my first day at work.

Yes, I hate moving. Especially when, late at night, my bed frame is unassembled, my mattresses are propped against a wall in the living room, and my sleeping bag is laid out on the bedroom’s hardwood floor, unmercifully waiting for me.

Oh, yes, I most definitely hate moving. Especially to an unfamiliar city, when it is an unspecified time late at night and I have to get up early in the morning, and I’m so exhausted that I’m willing to lie down on an unforgiving hardwood floor to sleep.

I’m just sliding into my first dream when a rustling noise in the living room awakens me. Unmoving, I listen with every fiber of my being but all I hear is the whoosh of street traffic.

Thoughts race through my now hyper-alert mind. Had the apartment manager re-keyed the locks after the last tenant moved? Does an intruder lurk outside my closed bedroom door? Should I silently crawl into the closet encased in fear to await the dawn? Or, dare I venture out, unarmed, to confront the unidentified terror?

Haltingly, agonizingly, I draw courage about me like a suit of armor. Holding my fear in check, I slowly, soundlessly, rise to my knees then to my feet, and creep across the room. Bursting through the door, I stand defensively, fisted hands raised to strike. Quickly, my gaze sweeps around the room—only to find a poster I’d taped to the wall had fallen to the floor and rolled itself up.

Adrenalin pumping through my veins like fire, I huff a hot breath of relief.

Gawd, I hate moving.