Packing, not in the urban LA sense, where I might have a 'gat' or be walking around 'strapped', but real-life, non-ebonics laden packing: kinda sucks. Packing makes one aware of just how much needless crap one totes around from one place to the other. Crap that's been stuffed into a cubby hole and largely forgotten until it's unearthed for packing, and which brings one of two thoughts to mind:
1) Holy crap!? Where has this been! I've really been missing my insulin!
2) I have no idea what this is, but since I haven't thrown this away since 1993 when I was really into Pearl Jam, it must be really important.
What never runs through your mind is the really important option :
3) If I haven't been missing this: half empty bottle of Wild Turkey / bobblehead of Tony Danza/novelty key chain for a Porsche which I used in a sad attempt to lure girls while dancing pathetically to Flock of Seagulls / syringe / back issues of The Spoon Advocate (activists pushing to legally verify ornamental spoons to their supposed location) / a novella you wrote in 9th grade about a boy and a girl who find happiness and awesomness with laser swords and a really fast wizard hat / a forgotten campaign donation to Goldwater. And since I haven't missed this, I should probably just throw it away.
And since that third option is always ignored, that piece of crap must invariably stuffed into a nondescript box for Depends (or Smirnoff's latest delightful foray into fizzy ciders aimed at tweens) and labelled: "Stuff". Or, if you are feeling really descriptive : "Miscellaneous". Which ensure this crap will follow you until that one fateful day in an old folks home when your heart medication is switched with a triple speedball and at least you've died with a smile on your face and who cared about that crap anyways?
Yes, in the larger outlook in life, hauling miscellaneous stuff indefinitely isn't that bad. I mean, who knows when you might need that Rita McNeil "Best of Hannukah Hits"? But it sure makes packing suck.