Statistically, about 10% of Americans move to another residence each year. I recently helped a close friend and her husband move their entire household from out of state to the city where I live. A few things learned from that experience:

1. If you don’t have to move, don’t.

2. If you do have to move, start a year before to reduce everything you own to fit inside the back of a pick-up truck. And maybe a trailer.

3. If that’s not possible, at least get rid of half of all your stuff. My husband and I have talked about downsizing from this home where we raised our family to a home more reasonable for two “seasoned” people. We just talk about it because it seems too big a task. Someone once sang in a song, “All my possessions are weighing me down.” We get that.

4. You never have enough boxes. Ever. You start with boxes borrowed from someone, then add ones you beg from multiple stores, then add more you pull out of dumpsters behind other stores, then pick up ones advertised for free in online classifieds, then break down and just buy some. And it’s still not enough. By the end of your packing, you’re putting stuff in some very creatively concocted containers.

5. There comes a moment in your packing when the enormity of what you’re doing hits you like a hammer. You’re trying to put everything you own into boxes, transport those boxes to a new home, then take it all out and find places for it. Even snails don’t do it this way. Just take a deep breath and tape up another box. The panic will pass.

6. Label each box — contents and where it goes. Unlabeled boxes are a mysterious pain.

7. After days of packing your stuff into boxes, you realize you didn’t focus enough on step 3 — getting rid of stuff. But now you’re too far into it to do another sorting. So you just keep packing. And just when you think you’ll never finish, you do.

There isn’t much time between finishing that last box and getting your stuff to the new place. We’re used to living with things like clothing, food and toothbrushes. So when we get to where we’re going, the whole experience becomes a huge hide and seek game. The food is in the coolers, the clothing is in the wardrobe boxes, but where are the toothbrushes? Unpacking is like a strange Christmas morning where every box holds a new, yet familiar “surprise.”

A few things to help this massively major transition:

Pack an overnight bag, even if you plan to move in a day. Never assume you will.

Take some rolls of toilet paper with you. It’s the most immediate need you’ll have.

Unpack your beds, sheets and blankets first, and set them all up. If nothing else, you have to get some sleep, or the next day won’t go well. In this temporary emergency mode, you can order out for meals, but you can’t order out for sleep.

Once your beds are set up, unpack your kitchen because when your family can eat a meal sitting around the family table again, things will start to be OK.

When a new neighbor drops by to say hi, stop whatever you’re doing and give him 100% of your attention. You never know how this new relationship will play out but give it the best start possible.

You’ll quickly realize the best housewarming gifts are things like a bag of paper plates or paper cups, a list of local phone numbers, a plate of sandwiches, cookies — consumable essential things. You’ll also realize the worst housewarming gift is a new plant because you’re still struggling to find places for all your own stuff. Just smile and say thanks.

We move for multiple reasons: job transfers, college, downsizing, getting closer to family, etc. Finally being there makes getting there worth it. That’s what you need to tell yourself when you’re halfway through the process, searching for the tape and panicking.

It’s your newest adventure, so try to stay positive.

And tell yourself this can actually be a truly moving experience.

D. Louise Brown lives in Layton. She writes a biweekly column for the Standard-Examiner.