Packing is like a Circle of Hell, But It’s Air Conditioned

Sign up for the best newsletter EVER!


I am in the process of packing up my entire apartment and goddamn, it is terrible. I’m predestined to be horrible at packing because I’m naturally horrible at organization. You might think that’s a personal choice of mine, but oh no, sir, you’d be wrong there: I am the girl who can’t find anything after she cleans and I definitely can’t be held accountable for complex tasks like putting shit that corresponds with other shit in the right box. Jesus.

But I can try. So can you! I’ve learned a few rules.

Yes, it really will take that long.
Packing is the worst because there’s really no way to cut down on labor or hurry it along. You have so many things in your home and short of hiring someone to do it for you, you’ve gotta make it all go somewhere '“ even if you end up throwing it all away. Curb alert! But seriously, don’t even for a minute that packing will not take up a sickening chunk of your time. In fact, take the amount of time you think it will take and multiply it by three. And then factor in some breaks for naps on top of your heap of shit and time spent googling 'œPACKING STRATEGIES.'

You need boxes. So many boxes!
The thing about trying to skimp on boxes is that, even if you save some strain by lessening your trips up and down the stairs, the boxes you do end up packing will be really fucking heavy. So heavy, in fact, that you will probably either give up or throw out your back or in a more likely scenario, both. Get more boxes than you need, and don’t overfill them. They’re not hard to get '“ go to the liquor store. Do not buy any liquor. Getting bombed on schnapps and going out on your fire escape to liberate all of your belongings will not equate to getting packed faster. You are dooming yourself to picking bras up off the sidewalk in your bathrobe later. Trust me on this.

This is the one I have trouble with. When faced with a half-empty box at my feet, my brain goes into caveman mode and shrieks of 'œFILL! FILL!' overpower any rationality. I reach for whatever’s handy to shove in there. The result is opening a box to find a stash of running socks and condoms alongside peach preserves and thank you cards. This non-strategy makes unpacking as pleasant as peeling your own skin off. You might want to make a list or something.

Well folks. That’s all I’ve got for you. If all else fails, cry. Your friends will come over to console you and then you can trick them into helping with beer. Or you could share those schnapps you only half-finished, but then you’ll need an extra bathrobe.

Like this article? Make sure to sign up for our mailing list so you never miss a goddamn thing!
Previous post

Cheap Laughs at the UCB Del Close Marathon

Next post

If Etsy Were a Real Place: Renegade Craft Fair this weekend at Fort Mason

Polina Yamshchikov - Flirt Poor

Polina Yamshchikov - Flirt Poor

Polina is Siberian by way of Alabama, and therefore cannot pronounce "fire" or "iron" correctly but despite this can still woo men with her cooking skills and enormous Russian cheeks. She can usually be spotted on the streets of Brooklyn either yelling into a cell phone in one of five languages or swilling gin at an inappropriate hour of the morning.


  1. SG
    July 29, 2010 at 12:06 pm

    Packing is one of the worst experience a young person can go through. That’s why older Americans stay until their homes until they are forced out by death or their adult children imprisoning them in a nursing home.

  2. Polina Yamshchikov - Flirt Poor
    July 29, 2010 at 1:10 pm