Holy Moly, We Moved, Pt 1: Packing

Packing is one of those tasks that I forget how much I hate until I find myself doing it again. The one exception to this is the kitchen, since, from move to move, I remember quite vividly how much I despise packing box after box of breakable shit. You don’t realize what a genuinely retarded number of beer glasses you have until you have to wrap each one in newspaper before nestling it in a bed of styrofoam peanuts that you can only hope will keep it in one piece as it travels 400 miles in the back of a 30 foot monster U-Haul truck.

Despite my hatred, I volunteered to do the kitchen this time around in an inadequate attempt to balance out the fact that Ty had about ten times more belongings to pack than I did. And, while it did suck, there were a few saving graces:

  1. I packed everything with old issues of The Onion. Random howls were unleashed at irregular, often frequent intervals.
  2. The kitchen was air-conditioned.
  3. Just kidding!
  4. It allowed me to avoid packing little painted miniatures.
  5. I unearthed some fun shit in there. Such as:

Exhibit A: the Chinese Take-Out Condiment Bag, which we have been adding to for the past four years

Exhibit B: The Rapcat Paper Bag Kitten Jersey, which was at the center of one of my favorite controversies of 2007

What controversy you say?

Next up… Part II: Getting Here, or, Breaking and Entering

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9 responses to “Holy Moly, We Moved, Pt 1: Packing

  1. No mention of the swirl of Buseys in the background?

  2. Fret not, fair Jacob. I have all the appropriate respect for and fear of the swirling Buseys. They just can’t qualify as something I “unearthed” during packing since they had been prominently displayed on our refrigerator for the last two or three years … right next to the swirling MacGuyver heads.

  3. Oh Jess — How I miss you so!

  4. Holy shit rap cat. Not sure if I should thank you for relighting those memory neurons.

  5. If cats don’t like getting stuffed in paper bags, I’m Miles Davis.

  6. I need to know: did you bring the Chinese takeout condiments with you? I hope so. It can be a tradition you pass down to your children and your children’s children or to a roadside trashcan. Whichever you prefer.

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