I’m moving the rest of my stuff from Manhattan back to Kansas City this weekend. I’ve done a good job organizing stuff until this box.
There’s a lamp, an imitation Tupperware of imitation flour, a deck of cards, the pump for my fitness ball, some junk mail, a foil baking pan and an unopened Rubik’s Cube.
When I’ve moved in the past, all of my boxes have the same level of categorization. On the down side, it’s a real bitch when you want to find a deck of cards. On the up side, there’s a damn good chance that you’ll find a deck of cards in at least half the boxes you open. (Playing cards breed inside kitchen drawers.)
So far, my packs of gum have a higher fertility level than my decks of cards.