Moving, part 2

It is 2:30 am, and I have finally finished packing.

Or at least, finished enough that I can go to bed without feeling too guilty.

Not bad really, only 2 1/2 hours later than I thought I was going to finish.  I have a real knack for grossly underestimating the enormity of a given task.  I tell myself "oh, my room's not that big... it can't take more than 4 hours to pack up...."  

Then I remember:  I have a shitload of crap.

Around 10pm I also realized that I was definitely going to run out of boxes.  At that point, what I should have done was say "fuck it," and thrown out everything that was not yet packed.   Instead I went down to the bodega and managed to sweet talk my way to 5 empty beer cases.  Now my movers will probably think I'm a lush.

Which is fine with me, so long as I'm not carrying anything down the stairs.