First packing screw-up of the move and it's only my first day. At least it's a minor one. In admiring my own cleverness at wrapping my drawer organizer (you know, those things you put your pens and paperclips in) in clingwrap and then in packing paper, I forgot to keep out the bits for my electric screwdriver. The box is now buried under two others and there's no way I'm going to dig them out. So it's off the hardware store tomorrow to buy some extras. There's no way I'm unscrewing all the stuff I have screwed into the wall by hand. It was bad enough putting it up that way the first time.
Here's a refrain you'll be seeing here during the next month or so: I have too many . . .
Today it's toys. Honestly, the number of Star Wars figures I have is ridiculous, although not as absurd as some people. I'm just afraid all those lightsabers are going to break off, no matter how well I wrap them. I think I might buy a roll of bubble wrap, regardless of the scorn of the moving guys. Some stuff is just too pointy to wrap well in paper.
My goal is to get fully packed without using all the boxes they sold me: $435 worth. They'll buy back whatever I use, and I think they probably sell you more than you need, because most people aren't efficient packers. Then there's me, thanks to Dad. We can both shoehorn a box until it's packed solid and nothing in it moves.
And my landlord's relieved me of the burden of carting off the furniture I'm abandoning. He told me today to just leave whatever I'm not taking in the apartment and he'd take care of it. This, after I put out two big old suitcases that he immediately snapped up. That's a relief, anyway. He's welcome to the old bookcase and the wardrobe. I think that's all I'm leaving behind that Em's not taking. Oh, and Gruhn's old green file cabinet. One less worry.
Now if the paperwork will just go smoothly. Glo picked it up today to be delivered to Parkchester tomorrow. We'll see. I could get a job at the CIA with the background information they asked for. Sheesh.
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