Those little carts you get to help move your stuff out of your dorm are a godsend. Those things are the perfect size to carry one or two of your possessions at once so it takes you only 14 trips instead of 20. Whew.
At my school, you have plenty of time to move out after your last final. I mean, it's at least three hours.
Now is the time of year where everyone crams. I'm not talking about for finals I mean your hall mate's father holding the elevator while he tries to cram it with everything she owns. Good thing he has one of those handy carts.
All my friends have spent the last few days alternating between packing and parenting-proof their rooms. You don't realize how many empty liquor bottles, cigarette cartons, and drunken pictures of yourself you own until you try to hide them all at once. You're going to say it so many times, you may as well have "uh, those are my roommate's" tattooed on your forehead.
Moving out is sad because it's the last time you'll see any of your floor mates again. Not seniors freshmen who realize that they're only friends with these people because they happen to live down the hall.
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