In case you guys didn't know, I'm moving. Like the rest of the world, I hate moving. Because somehow even though I just moved to this apartment 2 years ago, in that period of time I have accumulated an entire mortgage-sized house worth of useless stuff I don't even like or want. And enough dust to cover all of that useless stuff and then some. I mean, really, let's be honest. My Band Hero drumset doesn't even work. Not that any of my friends ever want to play it anyway. And... uh... when have I ever in my life used a serving dish???
But... not surprisingly I'm wayyyy too lazy to sell anything on eBay. (I'm sorry, but I will say it again - have you ever BEEN to a NYC post office? Seriously, shoot me.) So my big money-losing idea was to give some of my stuff to the Salvation Army, throw some of it away, dump some of it on my sister, and reluctantly move the rest of it with me to North Carolina. I also need to get rid of a bunch of clothes, because I don't even wear half of what's in my closet, since I bought most of it in 1990. (I am serious. I hate shopping.)
Of course this involves me actually going through all of my stuff and deciding what to give away, what to keep, and what to (gulp) pack. If there's anything I'm worse at than dating, it's packing. I can't even pack a suitcase for a trip. Nevermind packing up my entire apartment. I remember my friend Matt moved to college with just one suitcase. ONE suitcase! I've always wanted to be that person, but instead I'm the girl who brings her collection of 80,000 books along on a one-week vacation.
So needless to say, this is kind of how my packing attempts have been going so far:
You never realize how much OTHER cool stuff there is to do until you have to pack for a move. Like... anything else.
Miraculously, so far I have pulled together about 3 bags of clothes to give away. But the Salvation Army is sooooo farrrrrrrr. Well, ok, 3 blocks. But clothes are heavy. And it's not like in a normal town where you can have a boy carry the bags out to your car, and then you can just drive them to Salvo and roll them like gigantic snowballs out of your trunk and into the drop-off station. This is New York City. You have to carry them, by hand, out of your building and past all the suspicious onlookers to wherever you're going. (My longtime readers remember how well this went when I had to carry a gift-wrapped child-size guitar to work.) Then you have to walk past all the crazy drunk strung-out people who loiter outside the warehouse-like building, figure out where the hell to go inside, and hope that you don't get raped or murdered while you're trying to do a good deed.
I thought it might be safer to invite all my anonymous blog readers to my apartment to rifle through my stuff and take whatever you want, free of charge. So let this serve as an open-ended invitation. If any of you really like '90s clothes, feminist books, old plates from my parents' house, really any other kitchen items (they're unused, believe me), towels and sheets from my college days (and I'll even throw in a reversible comforter!) an unused yoga mat or unused 3 lb weights, about $1000 worth of GRE study materials (what a holy waste), a lot of half-used bath and body works body spray, belts (!! what am I doing with belts?!), and other random junk like that, come on over. Also, if there are any packing experts out there who want to pack up my apartment for free, you're invited too. You can even leave with a free bag of '90s clothes!
You have two months. You're welcome.