Look, I’ve been there. Actually, I am there right now. My roommate just left a mini-fridge in the middle of our living room and I’m staring at a pile of my own life that somehow expanded to fill every inch of this apartment.
So. Summer storage.
First thing—ignore every “top 10 tips” list you see. They’re written by people who’ve never actually had to fit a futon, eight milk crates of books, and a suspiciously stained rug into a Honda Civic.
Here’s what actually works, from someone who’s done this five times and cried twice.
Step one is mental, not physical
You have to accept that you own too much stuff. We all do. The goal isn’t to pack everything. The goal is to pack only what you’ll want in three months. Be brutal. If you haven’t used it since spring break, you don’t need it. If it’s broken, toss it. If it’s a “maybe,” that means no.
Step two: scavenge boxes, but not from where they tell you
Forget UPS. Go behind a grocery store or a liquor store. Liquor store boxes are small, sturdy, and have dividers—perfect for glasses, mugs, that kind of thing. Bookstores are gold for book boxes. If you’re feeling fancy, buy a pack of those giant Ziploc bags for your bedding and sweaters. Suck the air out with a vacuum hose. It’s weirdly satisfying and saves a stupid amount of space.
Step three: pack with future-you in mind
Future-you is tired, hungover, and in no mood to play “what’s in this mystery box.”
So label everything. Not just “kitchen,” but “kitchen—coffee stuff” or “winter clothes, open in November.”
Put the things you’ll need first in a separate, obvious box. Like, “OPEN THIS FIRST: sheets, towel, shower caddy.”
Wrap fragile stuff in your own clothes. Socks make great mug cozies. Sweatshirts cushion lamps. You’re going to wash it all anyway.
Now, the big question: where does it go?
Option A: Haul it home
Fine if home is close and your parents are chill. But let’s be real—gas is expensive, rental vans are worse, and you’ll have to do the whole thing in reverse come August. Plus, your parents’ garage probably already has their own forgotten junk in it.
Option B: Mooch off a friend
Risky. Basements flood. Garages get hot. Friends get annoyed when your boxes are still there in October. Only do this if you trust them completely and you’re willing to owe them a solid forever.
Option C: Get a storage unit
I know, I know—it sounds like something your grandparents would do. But hear me out.
A small unit—like, 5×5, the size of a closet—is cheaper than you think. You split it with a friend or two, and suddenly it’s like twenty bucks a month each. You pack once, drive it ten minutes away, lock it, and forget it. No stress, no favors, no surprises.
When I did this last year, I used a place called Downtown Mini Storage. No lie, it saved my sanity. The guy at the front desk literally helped me carry a desk in. They do month-to-month leases so you’re not stuck. And being able to just… close the door and walk away? Priceless.
A couple last things nobody tells you:
- Take photos of your electronics setup before you unplug everything. Trust me.
- If you’re storing a mattress, get a cheap waterproof cover. Bugs and moisture are real.
- Leave a little path in the middle of your storage unit so you can get to the box in the back without moving everything.
- And for god’s sake, don’t store food. Not even unopened ramen. Just don’t.
Bottom line:
You’re about to finish finals. Your brain is full. The last thing you need is a complicated, emotional breakup with your possessions.
Keep what matters, let go of what doesn’t, and put the rest somewhere safe and out of sight. Then go have a summer that doesn’t involve worrying about your stuff.
If a simple, off-your-hands solution sounds good, check out Downtown Mini Storage. Tell them the person with the suspicious rug sent you. They’ll know.
Good luck. You’ve got this. Now go pass those finals.
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