I would have thought these would be obvious, but given the ridiculous crap I’ve seen going on on my floor this week, apparently not.
- Pack as though you are the only one moving your shit out. If you can’t lift it or comfortably drag it, pack it lighter or get a dolly. Don’t assume Joe Blow Brawn is going to come along and carry that 5 feet by 5 feet by 5 feet box filled solid with books for you. Seriously, don’t inflict your packing troubles on others.
- If you don’t want to make the trips, don’t pack all that shit. Packrats need not bitch about the 25 trips they’ve had to make to their car. It is okay to throw some things out. Yes, you accumulate things through the year–hell, I’ve probably got twice as much stuff as I had coming in–but either suck it up and hit those three flights of stairs 15 times, hire a pack mule, or throw shit out. Your room was probably a junk-filled pig-sty all year anyway, so the last may be a good option for you. (Actually, if you could hire the pack mule for the sheer hilarity of attempting to convince it to go down the turning stairs with your stuff, it’d certainly make my year…)
- You are not driving a semi–rear view mirrors do serve a purpose. If you know you can’t drive for shit, but you fill your car so you can’t see out the rear view mirror, don’t be surprised when you find your license “slipped” out of your wallet just before you are due to depart. Rearrange shit in the trunk, sit on something, make your passengers walk home, whatever, but keep your junk-filled car away from my sexy beast for any highway time we may be sharing, because your blind spot just got hella large.