Don't move during your busy time at work.

Oh, every day is the busy time at DumbCo. -_-;;;

The cat you think has escaped into the forest is in fact hiding behind a piece of furniture.

Moving three beds in two days is pretty painful.

Our rule is one box of stuff, one box of trash. But we break that rule often.

If you never unpacked it two years ago, when you first moved in, you probably don't need it.

Wish I could obey this rule.

I'm a shedder and forgetter - I narrowed my life down to a very large orange duffel bag (which I have since gotten rid of) for my trip to Seattle.

I went through a summer in Indiana -- I think it was 1998 -- when everybody I knew moved. There was someone to pack up and haul for every weekend. (Including me.) Not everyone could make every move, but we did what we could, and by the time the leaves started to turn we were all superhumanly strong.

I don't really miss living out there, but it was great to have that kind of community.

Keep an eye on your wallet at all times, because the fear you encounter when you realize that you may have packed it in one of the boxes you just sealed today is not good for your sanity.

*seethe*

declutter.

Then declutter some more.

Make your husband borrow your parents' truck no matter what.

The cat you think has escaped into the forest is in fact hiding behind a piece of furniture.

Which will escape from the car when you stop to check if you forgot something, going over a fence into some kind of industrial shop covered in motor oil, which you will scramble over in a fit of adrenaline like some kind of superhero as you dive under a piece of heavy machinery to rescue it, covering yourself in grease, oil and machine turnings and thoroughly freaking out some business owner who speaks a language you don't even recognize. You will fail to describe or communicate why or how you managed to get over his 10 foot razor wire-topped fence, and no matter how many times you utter "cat! cat!" said businessman will be dangerously confused. Mysteriously the cat will be oil free. The cat will also immediately escape again and lead you on a wild goose chase through more residential areas of the same street. It will be a goose-cat chase involving pitbulls, crawling under cars and startled Crips. True story.

You will run out of time and be late. You'll also regret throwing X away to save space or pack lightly, where X is always exactly the doohickie/tool/material you'll first need upon arrival, no matter how much you planned and scoped out your destination.

*growls and looks at mess. curses softly.*

1. I own too much goddamned stuff. Especially books.
2. Once you pass your twenties, hiring movers is soooooo worth it. Really.

Your husband will use the really big boxes for books, leaving small boxes which will each hold only 1 pot or pan. You will not be able to move the enormous boxes of books, so he will have to. Scooooooorrrrre! true story; no longer married; terrified to move again because i have even more books.

Milk crates are nearly ideal book-moving-boxes. Sturdy with handles. Not too big or too small.

For those of us cheap weirdo bastards that could give a flying noogie about style and aesthetics, they also double as shelving when combine with planks, but y'all probably knew that already.

Keep an eye on your wallet at all times, because the fear you encounter when you realize that you may have packed it in one of the boxes you just sealed today is not good for your sanity.

Correlation: Your period will start a week early by simple virtue of having packed the tampons and forgetting which box they're in.