I'm not moving until August, but it's going to be a major ordeal. I moved into my first apartment, the one upstairs where I live now, in the fall of 2005. Prior to then, I was moving around between dorm rooms and my room at my parents' house. In other words, I had quite a manageable load of stuff, which by necessity had to be combed through often.
It wasn't until nearly a year ago that I decided I needed to find a different apartment. At this point in time I wasn't entirely thrilled with life in general, so I approached the apartment problems the same way I do all others in such a mood: half-assed. I lazily set my sights on the apartment directly below my own and vowed to go through my stuff and purge four years of enthusiastic shopping, throw things away, take things to goodwill, maybe even have a garage sale.
Just when I was beginning to think life could go as planned for once, I lost one of my favorite people in the entire world. Life literally stopped for a week and a half and things like my apartment, my job, my shady friends were completely out of my mind. Needless to say, moving was not as carefully calculated as I had hoped, consisting mostly of heaving stuff down the stairs and piling it up in my new entryway. I had zero time to really organize and decorate as all of my earned time at work was spent planning and attending a funeral. I literally moved empty boxes, which now sit empty in my new apartment begging to either be packed or tossed.
I don't move until August, but I already have some boxes. The changing weather lends itself well to packing away my coats, long-johns and winter accessories. There are only so many books I can read in four months, so I might as well pack up some of those. As much as I wish I do, I will not be needing my skinny clothes by then. It's also not unreasonable to try to finish stuff off - empty the shampoo bottle rather than buy a new scent a month later, use up the free samples, make sure the ibuprofen is gone before picking up another bottle (I am notorious for having lots of doubles in the bathroom). And stay on top of the trash because everything is just that much harder when the whole apartment is buried beneath one solid layer of junk mail.
This is entirely reasonable. If I can carve out a comfortable space within the mess, I can work this through in a weekend. I'll be updating...