Last week I helped my elderly father move. It was a long-distance move of around 400 km, but still within the same province (Ontario).
We hired Tippet-Richardson, a reputable Toronto-area firm who had previously moved my office, and the family pitched in for the cost. This was probably one of the smartest things we’ve ever done; it basically saved the sanity of everyone concerned. Having the job done by professionals with the proper tools and packing supplies was well worth it.
My father and I tossed a LOT of stuff before the move: furniture, a non-working TV, the tobacco-stained drapes and blinds, food of unknown age, the crap from the storage room, newspapers and magazines, carpets… I think he appreciated the ruthlessness of tossing all the stuff and making a break with old patterns.
He was moving from a grubby old apartment where he’d basically been a hermit for the past decade (ever since my mom, my sister, and my stepmother (his second wife) died), to a brand-new seniors-oriented development on the Bruce Peninsula not far from my cousins’ place.
The packers came in the day before the move, and were ruthless and quick in packing. They have to be; how can they distinguish vhat is valuable and what is not? They packed everything. We found quite a few little surprises on unpacking, like a wastebasket full of crud.
The movers arrived the next day (March 31st), and loaded everything that was packed. There was an insurance form that Dad had to fill out, listing replacement values of various items. Since the appliances weren’t going (we were moving to a place with better new ones), there weren’t that many items of individual great value.
My friend Mike came over by arrangement to help with the final cleanup, and then to drive me and my father to the new place. We would also be taking my father’s personal items and food to the new place at this time.
My friend took a final load of stuff to the dump as my father and I made the final checkout of the apartment with the landlord’s representative.
The apartment was not in good shape; 18 years of tobacco smake had stained the walls, and we didn’t have time to properly clean it. We were very lucky in that the next tenant (a smoker under time pressure of moving out from his apartment in the same building) had agreed with Dad in writing to take the apartment ‘as is’; otherwise we’d have had to pay for some fairly serious wall-cleaning and floor-stripping.
In the afternoon, we headed up to the new place. My father was the first tenant, so we were able to arrange overlapping tenancies: we had the new place in mid-March, and my aunt was able to arrange for food, certain new furniture, and supplies to be there before we arrived. We slept in the new place. The movers brought the stuff on the next day (1 April), and unloaded it very quickly–my father’s new place is a townhouse all on the ground level, so they just backed the truck up, put down a ramp, and carted the stuff in. We offered the movers food and drink afterwards.
The final invoice from the movers came in at 500 dollars LESS than the quote. 
Since I’d paid the largest share of the total moving costs, my aunt elected to give me back that $500. Dad was getting a new satellite system, so that he could watch his beloved Discovery Channel, so I sprang for the satellite receiver and installation. And a DVD player. Now Dad can borrow my cousins’ movies. 