So finals are over. You got that C in organic chem you were praying for, you’ve said your temporary goodbyes, and now you’re standing in your dorm room or apartment looking at the physical evidence of your entire school year. It’s overwhelming. That Target dorm section fantasy from August has collapsed into a heap of cheap plastic drawers, textbooks you’ll never open again, and approximately 87 mismatched socks.
I did this dance for four years at State. My sophomore year, I made every mistake. I shoved everything into black trash bags, begged a friend with a dad’s pickup truck, and jammed it all into my parents’ damp, spider-filled basement. Come August, my favorite leather boots were molded, my desk lamp was broken, and I had to start from scratch. It was expensive and miserable.
I’m telling you this so you don’t do what I did. Let’s get strategic.
Step One: The Emotional Detox (Also Known as Sorting)
Do not, I repeat, DO NOT start by packing. You will pack garbage. You will pack regret. You will pack that free T-shirt from a bank you’ve never visited.
Pull everything out. Every single thing. Onto the bed, the floor, wherever. Now, get real with yourself.
- The “Definite Yes” Pile: These are your MVPs. Your good-quality sheets, your favorite hoodies, your reliable coffee maker, your actual valuable textbooks for your major. Think: “Will I 100% need/want this in my first week back?” If yes, it stays.
- The “Nope” Pile: This is cathartic. That broken fan, the expired ramen, the notes from a class you despised, the decorations that now feel cheesy. Trash bag. Immediately. Take it to the dumpster. Feel the weight lift.
- The “Maybe/Sell” Pile: The “it was expensive” or “I might need it” items. That futon, the extra printer, the formal dress you wore once. Be brutal. List this stuff on your college’s Facebook Free & For Sale page NOW. Take the cash. Use it to fund your storage or a celebratory pizza. Future you will be thrilled to have less to manage.
This step cuts your workload by like, 60%. I promise.
Packing: Where Your Future Self Meets Your Present Self
You are not just putting things away. You are creating a gift for the person you’ll be in three months. That person is tired from moving, maybe hungover from reunion parties, and does not want to open a box labeled “crap.”
Gather your weapons:
Sturdy boxes are best. Liquor stores often have great free ones. You’ll need a roll of the strong tape—not the flimsy dollar store kind. A permanent marker. And for padding, use your own stuff: towels, t-shirts, sweats.
Here’s my hard-earned wisdom:
- Disassemble everything. That bookshelf, that bed riser, that lamp. Put every screw, bolt, and wingnut into a ziplock bag. TAPE THAT BAG to the largest piece of the item it belongs to. I cannot stress this enough. You will lose them otherwise.
- Pack boxes like you’re playing Tetris. Heavy stuff (books) in small boxes. Light, fluffy stuff (bedding, clothes) in big ones. Wrap your fragile items in your sweatshirts. You’re padding and packing simultaneously.
- LABEL WITH AN INSANE LEVEL OF DETAIL. “BOB’S ROOM – WINTER CLOTHES & CHEM BOOKS” is good. “BOB’S ROOM – TOP DRAWER: SOCKS, GLOVES, SCARVES. BOTTOM: SWEATERS” is genius. Write it on the top and one side. When you’re searching for your winter coat during the first freeze in November, you’ll know exactly which box to open.
The Big Question: Where Does This Mountain Go?
You have choices, but they come with very real trade-offs.
- The Parent’s Basement/Garage: The “free” option. I put free in quotes because the cost is often: your dad using your mini-fridge in his workshop, your mom “accidentally” donating your favorite concert tee, and the constant low-grade anxiety that a pipe will burst or a mouse will make a nest in your beanbag. Also, you need to transport it all there.
- A Friend’s Place: Risky. People’s living situations change over the summer. Things get moved, things get used, things get lost. It can strain a friendship. Only do this if you’re 100% okay with never seeing that item again.
- A Storage Unit: I was skeptical until my junior year, when a buddy and I split one. It changed the game.
Why a Unit Saved My Sanity (and My Stuff)
It feels like an adult thing to do, but honestly, it’s the most student-friendly solution if you can swing it. We split a 5×5 unit, which was about the size of a walk-in closet, and it fit everything from two dorm rooms.
The magic wasn’t just the space. It was:
- Proximity: It was a 7-minute drive from campus. We loaded up, made one trip, unloaded. Done. In the fall, we did the reverse before even checking into our new apartment.
- Security: My stuff was behind my own lock. No siblings, no parents, no randoms. The facility had gates and cameras. I slept easy.
- Climate Control: This is the unsung hero. My parents’ basement smelled like wet concrete. A climate-controlled unit is dry and room-temperature. No mildew on your shoes, no warping of your wooden desk. Worth every extra penny.
Making It Work For You
If you go the unit route, measure your biggest item (like that futon) and call a few places. Ask about student discounts—many have them. Ask about access hours; can you get your stuff at 8 PM if you need to? Get insurance; it’s usually a couple bucks a month.
Look, I work part-time at HarrisonBurg Storage now, mostly because after using it myself, I saw how much it helped people. We’re not a fancy corporate spot. We’re the place where the manager knows your name and doesn’t flinch when you show up with a car full of IKEA bags. We have small units that are perfect for exactly what you’re doing.
The goal here is to make your summer actually feel like a break. To not have your stuff be a source of stress or family negotiation. To walk back in the fall and set up your new place in an afternoon, not a week.
Now go put on some music, start making those piles, and take back your summer. You earned it.
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