Look. I’m just a guy who’s moved apartments seven times. My back hurts just thinking about it. And the whole “eco-friendly” thing always felt like one more chore. Like, I’m already taping boxes until 2 AM, and now I have to be a saint, too?
But then I helped my friend Chloe move. She’s that person. The one who brings her own containers to the deli. And she showed me some tricks that weren’t about being perfect. They were just… smarter. Cheaper, even. And her stuff didn’t break. So let me just tell you what I do now, with my own two hands. No fluff, no robot nonsense.
Step one: Raid your own house
Before you buy anything, open your closets. This is the biggest win. You are literally surrounded by packing material.
- That pile of towels waiting for the wash? Perfect. Wrap plates in them. Like, a plate, then a towel, then another plate. It’s like a delicious, protective lasagna.
- All those random socks missing their match? They are now wine glass protectors. Just stuff the bowl, or slide the stem in.
- Old t-shirts? They wrap picture frames and vases like a dream.
- That ratty bathrobe you never wear? Crumble it up to fill the big gaps in a box.
I’m telling you, this cuts down what you need to buy by half. And you have to pack the linens anyway! It’s just logistics.
Step two: The paper that doesn’t suck
You tried that thin, crinkly recycled stuff. It’s useless. I know. What you want is the heavy-duty brown kraft paper. The kind that comes on a big, wide roll. It feels substantial.
You don’t wrap with it. You scrumple. The noise is satisfying. Tear off a big piece, crunch it into a loose ball in your fist, and then open it up. It becomes this airy, cushiony cloud. Make nests for your dishes. Crumple sheets between your pots and pans. It works because of the air pockets. It’s just physics. And when you’re done, the whole box—paper and all—can go straight into the recycling bin. No separating weird plastic film.
Step three: The box truth
Cardboard boxes from the liquor store are free and amazing. But here is my hard-earned, personal advice. If you are putting anything away for more than a few months, like in a storage unit, cardboard is your enemy. It gets dusty. It smells weird. It can attract bugs. It sags.
My brother talked me into using plastic bins when we cleared out our dad’s attic. It felt like an extra expense. A year later, when we opened the storage unit, my cardboard boxes were sad and soft. His plastic bins? Wiped clean, stacked neat, and everything inside was like he packed it yesterday. The bins paid for themselves. You buy them once. They seal tight. They stack. You can see what’s inside. For long-term peace of mind, it’s the only way to go.
Step four: Filling the voids
You can’t have empty air in a box. Stuff shifts, things break. You know those horrible styrofoam peanuts? The ones that cling to your cat and live in your vacuum forever?
Get the ones made from cornstarch. They look the same. But do this test: drop one in a glass of water. If it disappears like magic, you’ve got the right ones. If it just floats there, mocking you, it’s the bad stuff. The cornstarch ones you can literally compost. Or, again, use your own stuff. Shred your old bills and junk mail. It’s free and it works.
The Bottom Line
This isn’t about doing everything 100% right. It’s about doing a few things differently. Maybe you use all your own towels and still need one roll of tape. That’s fine. You’re still winning.
The goal is to end the move with your stuff intact and without a mountain of plastic guilt on the curb. When you pack with simple, clean materials, you’re also protecting your things better for the long haul. Everything stays drier, cleaner. And when you finally haul those neatly packed, well-labeled bins into your storage space, you can actually relax. You know it’s all safe.
Just start with one box. Wrap your coffee mugs in dish towels. See how it feels. You might find it’s not about saving the world. It’s just about being a little less wasteful, and a lot more practical. Now I need more coffee. Good luck.
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