Dear Doily: I’m Just Now Realizing How Much Stuff I Have to Move Out

Dear Doily,

I know we’re all worried about dead week and finals week and all that, but did anyone else look around their room this morning and realize just how much shit they have? How did I fit this much into a 20 foot by 15 foot cube? Which stuff is my roommate’s and which is mine? I’ll take any moving advice you have, but I have a few things I’m really not sure what to do with that I’ve listed below.

• The futon has a weird dent in it. I’m afraid to ask my roommate about it. What would be harder: trying to shove it into the trunk of my family’s SUV, or trying to lift it into the dumpsters behind Burge?

• Should I keep all those notecards that I spent hours of my life working on and color coding before just stuffing them into my bottom desk drawer after the midterm was over?

• Will I successfully be able to get my poster of the women’s basketball team off my wall off of the Scotch tape I used to put it on the wall without ripping it in half?

• Should I try to keep some of my Valentine’s Day chocolates that have been sitting on my desk like I’m expecting a meeting with the CEO for the whole semester?

• Do you know how one of my childhood stuffed animals that I definitely don’t remember packing and honestly haven’t seen in five years ended up in my laundry basket last week? Do I take it home with me?

Desperately,

A Potential Hoarder

Dear Potential Hoarder,

We’ve all been there. Some of us can Marie Kondo that shit with no problem, while others are pretty sure we will actually need that random piece of scrap paper from four months ago someday. Our broad advice is to figure out if your parents will be more disappointed if you leave your dorm room with a backpack and a dream or if you need to take five trips to fit everything into the hatchback, then do the one that won’t make them sigh as loudly. 

As to your specific questions, we have given our personal thoughts down below, but feel free to regard or disregard them as you like.

• Ditch the futon, unless you have a younger sibling. Then pass it off to them. Act like the weird dents and stains are your fault. Watch them lose it.

• We’re all so proud of your beautiful, beautiful notecards. Give them a kiss as you gently put them in the trash. It’s okay if you cry – they meant a lot to you, but you have grown from them.

• Be less worried about your precious poster, and more worried about if the tape manages to snag that one specific spot on the wall where the paint is a little thin and just rip a broad white stripe into the wall. That’s when you’ll be cooked.

• Ew??? No??? (Yes – five second rule? More like five semester rule.) Anyone who did that would be gross?? Ach, excuse me, we’ve got something in our throat. (Yum chocolateee)

• We don’t know how Mr. Snuffles breached containment, but you can’t get rid of him now. He’s tethered himself permanently to your soul and lifeblood. There is no escape.

Best of luck with your moving!

Drowning in Our Own Shit,

The Doily Allergen