Actually, not so much the actual “moving” part but the part where asshole landlords decide what's “reasonable” with regards to showing the place. I don't like people coming and looking at my belongings. I don't care if they own the place, it's still my private, personal stuff you're pawing through and that's not in the lease. Not to mention, you smell, and you scare Abby.
As I looked at the kitchen sink last night, cleaning it, I realized that the freedom and ephemerality I gained/justified from not having a place of my own no longer holds any weight for me. Being beholden to people I don't respect is something I just can't tolerate anymore and it's really eased a lot of my future worries.