I hate moving. I did it about eighteen times in thirteen years, and developed an absolute abhorrence for packing and hauling boxes. Hate, hate, hate. That said, I think I'm moving.
I went looking for a house for a new program we're starting at church. I found a great house, that is actually two flats. The upstairs one is the perfect size for the program. The downstairs one is, as it turns out, really great for me and my roommate. I've toyed with the idea of moving, because my current apartment is roughly the size of a shoebox and is kind of falling apart. But since I hate moving, I've kind of let it slide.
Well, I think I'm moving. Pros: more space, better neighborhood, off-street parking, nicer apartment, big porch, closets. Cons: moving, living downstairs from the people I'll be supervising. I'm determined not to become the house mother. It should be interesting.