📦 How to Pack for a Move (Poorly, Emotionally, and Slightly Sticky)

Moving is hard. Packing is worse. But what’s truly horrifying is realizing you’ve been living with a full drawer of unused cables and seven mugs that say “#Blessed.” This is your guide to packing for a move with maximum cringe, minimal dignity, and a weird amount of tape. Buckle up, buttercup.

😬 Step 1: Embrace the Emotional Spiral (Declutter Edition)

Time to ask yourself: “Do I need this?” And by “this,” we mean the expired bath bombs, the hoodie from an ex, and the unopened fondue set from 2014. Be honest. If you haven’t touched it since your emo phase, maybe let it go. Or keep it. We’re not judging (yes we are).

📦 Step 2: Find Boxes (Steal From Friends, Cry Later)

Real adults buy moving boxes. But you? You beg the cashier at the liquor store to save the next shipment’s empties. You take banana boxes from supermarkets like it’s a black market deal. One of them smells like cantaloupe. It’s fine. You’re fine.

🎯 Step 3: Tetris, but With Existential Dread

Place heavy stuff at the bottom. Put socks in shoes. Wrap fragile items in anxiety (or towels, whichever’s cleaner). If it moves when you shake it, you lose. Bonus cringe if you pack something and immediately need it the next day. Like your sense of direction.

💸 Step 4: Save Money by Sacrificing Your Pride

• Use crumpled homework and takeout menus as packing paper. Recycling, baby.
• Wrap breakables in your least flattering underwear. Bold. Brave. Blurry.
• Use trash bags for clothes. Especially transparent ones. Let the world see your old concert tees.

🖍️ Step 5: Label Everything (Even If It’s Useless)

Write detailed labels like “Kitchen: plates, spoons, irrational fear of cooking.” Or go full chaos and label every box “Miscellaneous.” Future-you will love the mystery. And by love, we mean curse your name while sobbing into a box labeled “probably shoes.”

🧹 Step 6: Clean As You Go (Or Bribe Someone to Do It)

As you pack, discover lost artifacts like your dignity and that one sock that disappeared in 2019. Wipe shelves. Vacuum. Don’t let the new tenants discover your pasta fossil under the oven. You’re better than that. Allegedly.

🧳 Step 7: Your Essential Cringe Kit

Pack a box with items you’ll need the first night: toothbrush, clean shirt, snacks, phone charger, and a stress ball shaped like your ex’s face. Don’t put this box in the moving truck. Hug it. Name it. Protect it.

🧠 Bonus Tips from Someone Who Clearly Has No Grip on Reality

• Color-code your boxes. With glitter pens. Channel your inner 2006 Tumblr kid.
• Take photos of your electronics setup. Or don’t, and just scream into a pillow later.
• Talk to your boxes. Tell them they’re strong. They’re brave. They’re definitely not going to rip.

🧍 Final Words from the Edge of a Cardboard Breakdown

Moving is chaos. Packing is performance art. You will cry. You will laugh. You will find a banana in your sock drawer. But somehow, you will get through it — one cringy label and duct-taped memory at a time.

Want a printable checklist? I made one. It includes a place to log your emotional damage. Comment below if you’re brave enough to ask for it.