You know you should move when:
You curse the corner where you live.
You are tired of waiting in line to use the bathroom where you are the owner.
You've seen a ghost in your house...and it wasn't friendly.
You dream of kitchen tile, bathroom tile and well, other tile.
You think about telling prospective buyers that your bathtub doesn't need resurfacing, it's just "shabby chic."
You finally realize that your house is 120 years old, and it's only getting older.
Your teenage daughter wants to have friends over and you can't figure out where to put them that wouldn't make them look like sardines in a can.
You have a party for said daughter and you move all your furniture into the garage, which isn't really a garage, but a shack held together with a great deal of hope and a gallon of paint.
You know you you should stay, when:
You look at all the books you collect and think, "There's no way I'm moving those again."
Your husband looks at all your books and says, "There's no way I'm moving those again."
Your friends look at all your books and say, "We will be out of town when ever you move, because there's no way we are moving all those books again."
What does it take for you to move...or not?