The one where Tall Guy packs up all of my stuff at night and I unpack it all again when he goes to work. It's much easier to pack things that you know you won't use, but when the shoes don't fit, they're probably not yours and you should just leave them in the closet.
Last week we moved across town. Yes, with less than a month to go, we moved. The bank sold our apartment building and suddenly we had to go. It was frustrating to learn we would have to move TWICE in a month, and I was sad to leave Rosenstraße (glad to leave the little girl ghost behind, though). Tall Guy was annoyed because he was informed of the move by email, and because we had to move ourselves down five stories and up two, no elevators (there is one here, but it was, naturally, out of service when we needed it). We found ourselves rushing around, trying to organize so that we could leave some things boxed up for London. We were tired. We didn't want to move.
BUT. But, the bank provided us with a new place on Waldstraße, and it's nice. It isn't nearly as big, but we didn't need that much space to begin with. It's on the edge of town, but we have a car and I can walk to a grocery store. We don't have an oven, and our fridge is even, unbelievably, smaller, but on our first night we had a nice dinner out with some colleagues who live in the neighbourhood.
On the radar of life's challenges, this didn't even cause a blip.