Talkin' Some Pack

Part of the fun of moving is…wait…there is no fun in moving. Let’s start over.

One of the things that humorous with relocating everything you own .9 miles from where it currently resides (that is, everything except that dry cleaning you forgot to pick up), is no doubt that packing process. The sheer idea that each possession not deemed “furniture” can fit in the confines of a brown rectangular box for easy shipping and handling is just silly. Unlike pool cues, hockey sticks do not fold into easy travel cases.

But while packing may seem daunting to some, I kind of enjoy it. It’s like a big puzzle. Everything has a rightful place in some box, and it’s your job to make sure it gets there. However, shape and spatial relationships are just part of the equation. While you may have that box that would make a great transitory resting place for your wedding portrait, socks, and the blender, this just doesn’t make sense. Part of getting to enjoy the move is enjoying the new place as soon as possible. With box combinations like those, you could be unpacking until October.

The main rule of thumb (other than “Don’t Tape Your Thumbs to the Boxes”) is to pack non-essential belongings first, and leave the day-to-day crucials to the end. Last week, I thought I was doing that. It was Wednesday and approximately 96 hours until the truck comes to pick up our stuff. I figured it was time to further breakdown the kitchen.

You know how something cool will happen the very moment you look away?

Same premise. With only two nights left in this kitchen and a near-certainty one of them will be grabbing food on the go, I decided cookware was next for the boxing match. I wasn’t totally calling the game – I left exactly one pot and one plan for use over the next two days. Bakeware, Pyrex, all of it, the rest was box-bound.

As for dinner that night, I knew there was piece of frozen salmon I could defrost and cook and that would tide me over for the night. Granted, I had never made salmon before, but Katie had, and as she was over on the couch, I could just ask her what I would need. At the time of questioning, I was guessing that the method of cooking would be 60/40, pan instead of pot.

“You need to use one of the square Pyrex glass dishes.”

Oh. Of course, I had deemed it non-essential and packed it about 6 minutes prior. Drat.

Now one coincidental timing mixup does not warrant a blog. But when it happens twice more that evening, we at YAB believe it does. 48 minutes later, I went scrounging through boxes for the basil and citrus I wanted to use. An hour-twelve after that, I needed the long-packed Tupperware to store the leftovers.

Sigh.

Now when it comes to packing, you use what you have. Since I don’t keep an abundant supply of packing peanuts or bubble wrap on hand, I would no doubt need something else to wrap the glasses in when it was time that they, too, would be packed. Now our neighbor across the hallway has been on vacation or a business trip or anywhere but his apartment for a good week. His daily newspapers, on the other hand, have not.

Which is why I started collecting them as packing material.The problem was, later that night, I had used up all of my stash. “That’s ok,” I thought, “there were 3 more papers outside when I came home from work.” So I gladly walked out the front door only to find–

The papers had vanished. Neighbor was now home.

Do I have a right to be mad at him for not letting me take his hard-earned periodicals?