Moving sucks. No, really. When my spouse Hannah enrolled at the University of Southern Mississippi last fall, I knew that we would have to move from Jackson to Hattiesburg in January so that Hannah could attend in-person classes. I knew I would miss Jackson—my home since 2019—but I tried to look at the silver linings: I’d be closer to family and certain friends of mine whom I didn’t see as regularly while living in Hinds County.
Generally speaking, I’m a planner. If I travel, I create color-coded itineraries. When my spouse and sister-in-law needed help combing through their respective degree plans to create semester-by-semester class schedules, I had a blast checking prerequisites and creating balanced workloads. Ahead of this move, I knew that I’d have to put a decent lump of change down to rent a box truck and hire movers. Hannah has a joint disorder, and I have a bum shoulder from the time I accidentally let a car fall on me while I was changing the oil. Budgeting in help with the physical labor-side of things was essential.
Unfortunately, I could only pay for a few hours’ help, leaving me to make subsequent trips by myself, doing the best I could with my good arm. Three weekend drives and 14 collective hours of carrying boxes downstairs later, and I am moved into my new rental house within throwing distance of Turtle Creek Mall.
The Blows Just Kept Coming
No, the labor wasn’t why I say moving sucks. Granted, it wasn’t fun. But I did what I had to do, and our families helped when they could.
What has made this move such a struggle is that the apartment complex I moved out of charged me more than $1,000 that I wasn’t expecting. Ouch. What happened, you wonder? Well, I thought I had to give my apartment notice that I was vacating within 30 days. So, when I rolled in the week after New Year’s to start the process “early” (I had thought), I was surprised to learn that my lease apparently specified that I needed to give a 60-day notice. I was a week late.
The lady inside the office told me there would be a late fee for those days. The implication, I believed, was that I would be paying for the difference in days between when I should have and when I did notify the company. My guess was that I would pay a variation of a prorated rate—wherein you divide your rent by 30 and multiply by however many days.
Negative.
I had to pay a month-to-month charge: $850. I was already using my credit card to pay for the move, and then a wrench like that gets thrown in. I tried to plead for some leniency, to no avail. The company could charge me, so they would charge me.
Never mind that I was a dedicated, non-problem tenant for four years who didn’t have a late payment on his record. Never mind that I was moving because of a life change and not because I was expressing dissatisfaction with the property. Never mind that I still moved out on my originally planned date and that my delayed notice didn’t change how quickly the company was able to flip my apartment for the next tenant.
Nope. The rental industry has gotten to the point where humanity isn’t a factor anymore. The woman on the phone said, “I’m sorry,” as she heard my voice choking up about my needing to pay money I didn’t have or else be sent to collections and hurt my credit even more, but her sympathy changed nothing. She “couldn’t do anything” for me. I read my lease. I did. But that was four years ago. I know this is on me for misremembering or not rereading it closer to my move-out date, but come on—a late fee that steep is crippling.
Adding to that, the rental company slapped me with a $400 cleaning fee. It’s not like I left the place in horrid condition. I vacuumed, swept, wiped counters, scrubbed the bathtub. But it would seem that my best efforts weren’t to their liking. Fine. I thought my security deposit was supposed to cover some of those costs, but fine.
‘All We Can Do Is Breathe’
Editor’s notes often have some sort of fortune-cookie thesis statement, but the best I can offer right now is advice: If you rent, reread your lease within six months of your move-out date. Companies don’t care about individuals, so if you don’t protect yourself by being careful, you’ll suffer for it.
I was already temporarily losing joint income as my partner had to find a new job in Hattiesburg. I was already paying for various costs relating to a move beyond the truck and hired labor. I was already stretched so, so thin. I literally had to borrow money just to make it through the last month. I hate that. It’s not that I’m prideful. It’s that I want to think I’m reasonably financially responsible, but all it takes sometimes is one hardship to set you back.
Many Mississippians know this struggle, so I thank anyone who is commiserating with me right now. One hospital bill. One car-repair bill. One mistaken understanding of your lease. Since 2024, I’ve experienced each of these. Once you fall behind, it can take months to feel like you’re even approaching stability again. And when you recover, only to get knocked down once more, even an optimistic person like me can feel defeated.
If anyone reading this is struggling with something similar or worse, I hear you. Given how much I’ve been able to put into it over the last three years, I may as well not even have a savings account, which is disheartening.
Nevertheless, as my friends and family and coworkers have echoed, and as I know to be true: Things get better. Life can be brutal, unforgiving—whether we struggle due to bad luck or to our own shortcomings. Sometimes all we can do is breathe, pray and put our best foot forward on the path of recovery.
Forgive me for treating this editor’s note as a sort of journal. I admit, it’s been cathartic writing this out. Really, I know things will get better. But if any of you see me on the street, give me a word of encouragement if you can spare it. Thank you for being such an empathetic readership. I’m lucky to have you all to vent to. My next editor’s note will be more meaningful and have less whining, I promise!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to sort through my comic collection and see what all I can sell for a boost in cash flow. Take care, all. And remember: Reread your contracts!
This MFP Voices opinion essay reflects the personal opinion of its author(s). The column does not necessarily represent the views of the Mississippi Free Press, its staff or board members. To submit an opinion for the MFP Voices section, send up to 1,200 words and sources fact-checking the included information to voices@mississippifreepress.org. We welcome a wide variety of viewpoints.
