Did you just say sushi tape?

As it turns out, when the Terps came over Monday night to help me begin the daunting task of packing up my whole house, we discovered that the only packing tape I had was covered in pictures of sushi.

Yeah, I said sushi.

My only defense for owning this particular item is that it was actually a gift to me from the Bowkers. Apparently the combination of tiny, raw bites of food with tightly bound, secure boxes makes them think of me. (*shurg*) I'm down with that.

I began my inaugural evening of packing by asking the simple question, "What do you think I should do with all my condiments?" Immediately Dustin walked directly to my fridge and began reading off expiration dates. Much to our mutual disgust, over 90% of the items were expired. Now, before you go and judge me for having a nasty, ill-kept fridge, please note that most of the items did not belong to me. It turns out my fridge had become a monument to the eating preferences of roommates past. As you can imagine, Dustin went to town emptying old, rotten salad dressings, expired relish, and sour piña colda mix down the drain (and with minimal gagging too!) By the time he was finished, my recycle bin was filled to the brim-tip-top.

So as Dustin tackled the fridge (randomly yelling out expiration dates or poignantly asking, "Horseradish sauce? Who buys that?" Abby and I packed up the dining room. We focused our efforts on the liquor cabinet, carefully wrapping all my wine glasses and swizzle sticks first in paper, then bubble wrap while simultaneously rationalizing we might as well take all the alcohol to their house. :) Since we'll be roomies for the next few weeks, it seemed like the best way to "pack" it. (Heh.)


(In unrelated news, if you're Jonesin' for a cocktail in the next month, you might want to stop by the Terps.)