Short story: Schrödinger's Hat Box

Originally published at:


So the solution was a hidden variable theory. :upside_down_face:


The labeling in the box was in a dimension not normally observable to Jason. Changing the box’ rotation and spatial position was he able to make the needed observation.


When moving (which I despise with a deep and abiding passion), I slap large fluorescent labels on all four sides of the boxes containing the items I consider most vital.

Unfortunately, the things I consider vital when packing are not always the things I consider vital when unpacking.


Color code every box for its intended room. I use wide cloth colored tape from the dollar store to at least flag somewhere on the box lid, label everything with an unpacking urgency code (#1, #2 or #3) on the top and on all 4 sides and try to note what’s inside. Our moves go pretty smoothly. The only way we’ll move again is with sheets over us.


Jason is now so overloaded with caffeine that he’s referring to himself in the 3rd person. :crazy_face:


I fucking hate moving. That said I still have tons of boxes from my last move in a state of limbo - i need to go down, and sell, or reorganize if I decide they still hold my interest. I too have some hats in boxes.


I only have two moving boxes left in the house that are my responsibility. One is like 20 years of Cooks Illustrated and the other 25 years of negatives and positives.


On my last move, when things also went into storage for a few months while I was abroad, I was advised to pack a few “open me first” boxes with necessities to get me through the first few days of unpacking – linens and towels, kitchen stuff, toiletries, season-appropriate clothes, etc.

I also did a major cull and categorisation before the move and labelled boxes properly. The unpack went surprisingly smoothly, but I wasn’t bold enough to tempt the fates like Jason did. He definitely deserves to get a good short story out of his adventure.


Jason is a very privileged fellow whose antics and foibles are uninteresting in a very self absorbed sort of way. In April 2019 and in July 2020 and probably forever.

Sing it sister.


“Probably two hats”. When you’re so out of your skull you can’t tell if it’s one, three, or two hats. Been there. Oh yes, have been there.

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I think you’re supposed to weigh those and see which is more.


Someone needs to invent tesseract shaped moving boxes, or maybe Jason did without realizing it.

And He Used A Crooked Moving Box


This move story really hits home. Having moved ten times (10x) in the past 15 or so years, it happens like this every time. Except that the 2003 Loudmouth has become the much more subdued 2018 Loudmouth, after move after move after move. These experiences with my Mexican wife have helped me learn more better Spanish. One tip I have for anyone who is planning to land in the place they are meant to be, is store and stack boxes into rows in a garage-like space, instead of piling them all into one large massive conglomeration. This will help you shop for your belongings.


After moving about 20 times (hauling perpetually boxed ancient Nat Geo issues around for half of them until my friends staged a revolt), I noticed that I get punchy at some point (late night packing marathons) and start adding utter bullshit to my boxes. My favorite was “OFFICE: supplies, armadillo, stretch limo” on a 8"x10" box.

I’m also a fan of putting a long strip of bright yellow duct tape on the essential boxes, which served me very well the year I put everything in storage and lived out of a 9x9 room rented from a friend. Sometimes I miss those simpler times.


It is a truism that you’re never properly moved in until you’ve unpacked all the moving boxes. So, in my twenty years of marriage, I never really moved in. Some of those boxes are still there, unpacked, in my ex-wife’s house.


I’ve digitised all my favourite rolls of film but hang on to the negatives just in case I ever want a poster print. That’s as likely as me fitting into the Motörhead tshirt I bought when I saw them in 1984.

I know it will never happen. But I still can’t toss them.


The house I’m currently in was bought in 2012. I still have boxes in my storage room that I packed when I moved here that need to be sorted, with the contents being tossed, given to charity, or shredded.


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