the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

by a military professional

If you're a normal sort,* your house looks something like mine.**

* That is, you fall somewhere toward the middle of the bell curve where Obsessive Compulsive House Cleaner is 1 and Hoarder (and possible drug addict) is 10. If you lean toward OCHC, you don't need my help (although I still think you need help), and if you lean toward hoarding, you'll never move, anyway. Someone will eventually find you buried in your own junk.

** Not in the sense that you have a library, swim spa, and theatre in your basement, but in the sense that no matter how many horizontal surfaces you have, they spontaneously generate opened and unopened mail, half-eaten snacks, half-read books, "free" anythings, cat toys, socks, cat fur, medication, hats, random bits of clothing, lost telephones, used Kleenexes, staplers, tweezers, and a random assortment of pens, at least 1/3rd of which don't work. Weird stuff has crept into corners and taken up residence, and during fits of housecleaning (we do ours when someone is physically en route to the house, and we want to not look like the slobs we are) the extremely weird stuff migrates to the garage and junk drawers.

Ok. You all know who you are. Let's begin.

You know about two months out (on average) that you'll be moving. Here is your timeline:

1. Sit down and write out your daily/weekly plans for packing. Be reasonable. It's a huge task, so divide and conquer. A few tasks a day, and this isn't a big deal, ok? During the first week, you might go through those boxes you never unpacked from your last move, for example, and decide that you don't need any of that stuff. Go ahead and donate it to Goodwill or the Salvation Army or--depending on your neighborhood--leave it on the curb, like you would anything else that needs a new home, like a dishwasher, a toilet, or a litter of kittens.

This is also a good time to go through your closet and take out all the stuff you haven't even tried on for at least three years (everybody has their breaking point), as well as the favorite jeans and teeshirts you should have thrown out--because they're in such horrible shape Goodwill wouldn't take them, even to sell as furniture cleaning rags--three or more years ago.

That should narrow it down a bit. Don't worry about the crap on the counters right now. If you clean it off, it will regenerate within a week.

2. Find a few liquor stores in the neighborhood and start collecting boxes. Don't go to UHaul and pay them for boxes. That's just a waste. Liquor boxes are strong, almost the perfect size for about 80% of what's in your house, they are constantly generated and liquor stores must pay to have them squashed and hauled away. So start collecting.

In the interest of goodwill, buy a bottle of wine occasionally.

3. Locate the stuff you can't bear to throw away because it's still in good condition (although you don't use it anymore) and put it on eBay or Craigslist. I swear, I've gotten more awesome stuff from people who are about to move, and they sell their stuff at rock bottom prices. It's better than throwing it away.

NOTE: It's easy to get carried away on this step, once you realize how easy it is to sell stuff and how the money starts rolling in. Once you realize that those college textbooks bring big bucks, you might slip into a sort of eBay orgy. Be careful. Just because you haven't used your husband in a long time doesn't mean you should sell him (and he might not fetch all that much, anyway). When you find yourself scanning your friends' shelves for things you can sell, you might need to slow down.

4. Collect newspapers. This is getting more challenging all the time, so start early. It's free packing material.

5. Exercise self-discipline and pack a box or two a day, labeling and stacking as you go. The reasonable rule of thumb is to pack all the boxes you collect as they come in. As you pack, you must (again) exercise discipline and determine whether the item you're packing needs to be introduced to the new pad.

"Things" have a way of attaching themselves to us and to our homes, a bit like marriage. We form a sort of connection to them over time. They are not only ours, but they represent part of our past, etc. They also connect to your home. Take this opportunity to divorce them.

You won't do these things, of course, because you're normal. You'll collect some boxes and newspapers when you think of it, but there's plenty of time to pack....

6. Realize that almost nothing is packed and you have to move in a little more than a week. Panic. Pack a few boxes furiously, with no real thought as to where the box goes and what should be in it. As long as stuff fits, you can pile it in there and call it packed.

Drink some of that wine.

7. Start thinking about who can help you move all your crap for the cheapest beer.

Yeah, I know. I'm not much help. Frankly, since I'm in the military, they hire the lowest bidder to come break my furniture and steal random stuff every time I move. That way, I don't have to pack anything myself.

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