Just yesterday I moved to a different state for work. It took two trips to get all my stuff moved (I just used my SUV and it was about a 2 hour drive). On the whole, the move was the model of efficiency. On the last trip, I was reflecting on how the whole day would be different if there was a woman involved. How would the move progress if I was moving with a girlfriend or wife? Here's what I concluded.

As it happened:

all of my stuff was packed and ready to go by Friday night. I had everything in bins and stacked neatly in the middle of my room. Saturday morning rolls around. I'm up at 8:00. Get dressed and all that jazz and load up my car. On the road by 9:30. Two hours down to my new place. Unloaded in about 30 minutes. Turned right around; two hours back. Loaded up the rest of my stuff and back down. All done by 5:00. I was able to fit all of my possessions in the back of my SUV and only had to make two trips to get everything. Nothing was forgotten and while I did have to contend with a particularly unpleasant snowstorm in the drive down, everything went off without a hitch.

How it would have gone with a woman:

my stuff is all packed and ready to go by Friday night. Her stuff is still strewn about and she's getting overwhelmed trying to sort it out. Get up at 8:00. I get dressed and all that jazz; she gets in the shower. I begin loading stuff into the moving van (there's way too many odds and ends to fit in my car); 9:30 rolls around and she's finally dressed. She continues to try and pack up her stuff. 11:00 I have everything else packed; but now she's crying because I'm rushing her. 12:00 after an argument about how I'm such an asshole and how she's doing her best, I get her calmed down and she continues packing (I'm not allowed to help because I'll do it wrong). 2:00 she finally has everything packed and I've loaded it into the moving van; we're finally ready to go. I tell her to follow in her car to make things go a little quicker (we won't have to come back for her car), but she wants to ride with me so another argument ensues. 3:00 we're finally on the road in the moving van together. She wants to stop for something to eat. 4:30 we're back on the road. 6:30 we arrive at the new place, but we can't unload anything because she wants to clean the new place first. 7:30 we begin unloading. She brings in the first box and begins unpacking it. I make the point that we should unload everything first so we can return the moving van. Another argument ensues about how I'm so controlling and mean. 8:30 the argument ends with her administering the silent treatment and continuing to unpack her box. 10:30 I finish unloading the moving van. I return the van to the rental place and pick up my car. 11:00 I get the bed ready so we have somewhere to sleep, shower and get ready to call it a night. She showers too.

Day 2: up at 8:00 and ready to go retrieve her car. She gets in the shower. 9:30 I'm about to get her out the door, but she's convinced she's forgotten something at the old place, so we'll have to go back in to look for it, but since we returned the keys, we'll have to get the landlord to come let us in. It's Sunday so he's not answering his phone. We'll have to wait till Monday (when I'm supposed to start my new job). We spend the day unpacking and arranging and rearranging everything. More arguments ensue about where every item should go (I don't really care, but after the fifth time moving the couch, I'm getting frustrated and tired). She's still concerned about the item she left at the old place. I'm convinced it's in one of the boxes we have yet to unpack, but I'm just an asshole who doesn't care about her and her feelings so what do I know.

Day 3: I call into work and beg to push back my start date until Tuesday. My annoyed boss agrees... Bad impression made. We drive back to the old place and the landlord let's us into the apartment. Two hours of searching later and still no item. I tell her again that it's in one of boxes, another argument ensues. After its abundantly clear that the item is not in the apartment, I apologize profusely to the annoyed landlord and we get her car and return to the new place. The mystery item is found in one of the boxes a few hours later.

You make think this is hyperbole, but I kid you not, this is exactly how the move went when I was living with my ex... Except for the job bit. I wasn't changing jobs when we were living together. I added it for a little literary flourish.