Hmmm.
Moving is not fun. Growing up, by the time I graduated from high school, I had lived in 18 houses. My parents would build a home, sell a home, rent a home to live in while building another home, and live in that home, sell that home. The home I lived in during high school bordered a smooth running creek. When my parents put out the FOR SALE BY OWNER sign, my older brother pulled the sign from the earth, walked the sign to the creek. With a heave and ho, flung the sign into the creek. My brother walked back home. Told my parents what he had done. They did not sell the home until I had graduated from high school. 

Post Script: One home my parents rented had the nastiest, dirtiest tub. I did not bathe for the six months we lived in that home. I would shower in the locker room at school. As much as I hated showering at school, I hated that tub worse. My brothers slept in the basement of that home. One night they were aroused from sleep by a drunk Native American from the nearby reservation. My brother threw a tennis shoe at the drunk. The guy stumbled into the coal room and crashed. In the morning, he took off. So much for rental homes of the cheap variety!