THU MAY 14: Packing to Move

If my math is correct, I've moved 17 times since leaving my home state of Florida in 1977. Let's see -- that's three times in New Jersey, four times in Kansas, seven times in Washington, twice in Maine, and once here in Idaho. (God, let it be once here in Idaho!) Yep, 17 moves in 38 years. Sort of makes Richard Kimble look like a couch potato, doesn't it?

Of course, I never actually plan on moving once I settle in to a place. Four of those moves were with friends and family, jumping-off points to elsewhere. But the other 13 moves were meant to be permanent. I can't help but remember what Jack Nicholson's character said to his ailing father in Five Easy Pieces: "I move around a lot, not because I'm looking for anything really, but 'cause I'm getting away from things that get bad if I stay." (That has nothing to do with me, of course; it's just one of my favorite movie lines. I love saying it.)

My point here is that after a few moves, you become pretty adept at organizing and packing. After 17 of them, you could offer your services on Craig's List. Packing was mostly trial-and-error for me at first; actually, more error than trial. But I got good enough to where I think I can talk about it like a normal person and maybe even help you in your own next move. Or not. Whatever.

Before I can begin packing, I have to figure out what I'm going to take and what I'm going to leave behind. So I make five piles -- one for keeping, one for donating, one for selling, one for giving away to friends, and one for burning on the pyre I've built in the back yard. (This system is also helpful if you're just organizing but not moving. But if you're moving and not organizing, this won't help you at all.)

For each item I select, I have to ask some pertinent questions: Why am I keeping this? Can I live without it? How much sentimental value does it hold? Can I just blot out Dick Cheney's autograph at the bottom? Answers to the first three questions will determine what stays and what goes. The answer to the fourth question can be found on the pyre in my backyard (which begs the question, "What was I doing with it in the first place?").

For me, the most difficult decisions to make always come down to books. I love my books, and I've always hated to purge them. But sometimes large, heavy collections of anything can become extremely costly and cumbersome to transport. When I lived in New Jersey in the late 1970s, my book collection filled six tall bookcases. By the time I'd moved from New Jersey to Kansas and then to Washington, my collection filled an industrial front-loading washer. Now that I've moved from Washington to Maine and finally to Idaho, I keep my collection inside a bottle of zero-calorie Dr. Pepper. (I'd never have the room if the calories were included.)

Once you've amassed your pile of things to sell, it's time to have a garage sale. Garage sales can be very dangerous. You could get hit by a car while taping your sign to a tree by the side of the highway. You could be knifed by a buyer who takes it personally that you're not haggling. You could also be knifed by a motorist who keeps seeing your sign weeks after the sale is over. (Always remember to take them down. That means you, too, political volunteers! I've been tempted to knife you myself.)

Once the sale is over, you have to go start the whole selection process over again. What shall I do with the remaining items? Donate? Give to friends? Bonfires need love, too. Might as well light everything up. (But save those gallon drums of jet fuel for Goodwill. Jet fuel can be flammable. It can also be inflammable. This can become confusing, especially to English majors. To determine whether your jet fuel is flammable or inflammable, gauge the approximate degree of your flamm.)

Now that you know exactly what you're keeping, it's time to hunt for boxes. I know some manly men here who hunt for deer and elk. Let them try hunting for boxes and you'll find them huddled in a corner of their garage sucking their thumbs in a fetal position. It takes guts and sheer tenacity to find just the right boxes for all your valuables. (If they're not all valuables, go back to paragraphs 4 and 5, print them out, and make some flash cards.) Here are a few places to find boxes ranked from "Yay, boxes!" to "You call those boxes?" (Keep in mind this list isn't comprehensive and is limited by my inability to think straight when I have to move.)

1. Stores that sell paper by the ream because boxes that carry reams of paper are sturdy and have great lids. Places to find them:

Staples
Office Depot
Office Max
Kinko's (oops -- Kinko's went away and now there is only FedEx Kinko's and FedEx Kinko's can't help you)
Dunder Mifflin (oops -- you can't get boxes there anymore because they went off the air)

2. Liquor stores (before I thought of #1). Their boxes are pretty reliable if you can grab them before the store owner flattens them on their way out the back door. One problem with some of these boxes, though, especially wine boxes, is that they have these built-in corrugated cardboard dividers you can't remove, so you can basically pack only vases and straws.

3. Grocery stores (before I thought of #2). I would always ask for empty boxes from the fruit section. Most fruit boxes such as apple boxes are fine, but watch out for the banana boxes. They come with one big hole in the bottom so tarantulas can get air. If you do get these boxes, pack flat things like books and tortillas that won't fall out. They're not good for vases or straws.

4. U-Haul. Before I knew anything about moving, I went to my local U-Haul store and bought put-it-together-yourself boxes. That's right -- not only did I have to pay for them, I had to build them myself. If those other stores are giving boxes away for free, shouldn't U-Haul be paying me for my time and trouble? I think U-Haul customers should form a union and demand a living wage.

So these are just a few helpful hints to help make your moving experience a moving experience. Oh, and one more thing -- before you pull away in your 36-foot rental van from U-Haul (even though you're not speaking to them), don't forget to stamp out that raging inferno in the backyard. It's better that your neighbors hear about your move from you than from Wolf Blitzer.