For the record, the apartment we moved into is a prewar. The ceilings are extremely high, the detail on the walls and floors are fairly nice, and the walls are extremely thick. Some of my friends asked me for pictures of my new digs, so I obliged yesterday, when Puppy and I got cracking on setting the thing up. It was so much work, but it was well worth it, in my opinion.
The other thing about moving that I've noticed is that your entire life is pretty much on front street. All those little things that you thought you'd forgotten about in the recesses of your house come back to haunt you, and all the people helping you to pack have a pretty clear view of your dirty laundry (be it literal or metaphorical). It's a weird experience, because rarely does every intimate thing you own come up for scrutiny.
It was OK though, because the friends helping us to move have known us a long time, and don't really judge. They know how many spices I have hiding in the nooks and crannies of my pantry. They're well aware that I own many pairs of shoes. Seeing six large garbage bags full of clothing didn't manage to shock anyone at all.
Then there was all the stuff that you'd been meaning to fix, but never got around to. I decided to get rid of all such things, because if I haven't done so in two years, what makes me think that I'll do it now? Nothing at all. Out the broken clothes, electronics, etc. went. I also did a serious thinking about the dishes that we actually use in day-to-day life. The ceramic plates and such went away, to be replaced by the stainless steel dishes we use all the time. The glass tumblers were replaced by stainless steel as well.
I guess that ideally, I'd be OK with living in one apartment for many years, and not have to do this. However, having this forcible move thing going down means that I need to take stock, and seriously consider what needs to come with me, and what can be left behind. I'm happy to say that I managed to get the stuff I really did want, and leave behind the rest.