A Taxonomy of the Boxes You'll Never Unpack

Somewhere in your house — a garage shelf, the top of a wardrobe, under the stairs — there are boxes that arrived sealed at this address and will leave it the same way. We see them on every job. As a public service, here is a formal taxonomy of the species, so you can identify yours in the wild.

1. The Cable Box (Genus: Just In Case)

Contains: eleven phone chargers for phones you no longer own, three HDMI cables of unknown provenance, a router from two internet providers ago, and one mystery power adapter that might be important, which is why the whole box survives. Every household has exactly one. If you have two, one of them formed by cell division.

2. The Box Marked "Misc"

The apex predator of unpacked boxes. "Misc" is not a category; it's a confession — written at 11pm the night before a previous move by a person who had stopped believing in categories. Opening it now would mean confronting who you were then. Sealed it remains.

3. The Trophy Box

School ribbons, a debating trophy, a soccer medal from a year that starts with 19 or a very early 20. Can't be displayed (you're an adult), can't be binned (you're not a monster). So it moves. Again. It has now travelled further than some gap years.

4. The Kitchen Optimist

The pasta maker, the juicer, the fondue set from a wedding registry. This box contains not appliances but aspirations — a version of you who juices. That version has now lived at three addresses without once being sighted.

5. The Heirloom (Unverified)

Something of Grandma's. Nobody is entirely sure what. It is wrapped in newspaper from a decade that explains a lot about the wrapping technique, and it will be carried with two hands and genuine reverence by everyone who touches it, including us. This one, honestly, gets a pass — some boxes earn their seat on the truck.

The rule that ends the cycle

Here's the honest version, from people who lift these boxes for a living: if a box has survived two moves unopened, you don't own its contents anymore — you're just paying for their transport. Before the next move, open it once. Keep what makes you feel something, and let the garage sale or the five stages take the rest. (The Heirloom is exempt. Obviously.)

And whatever survives the cull, we'll move it without judgement — the Cable Box rides as proudly on our truck as the fridge does. Get a fixed quote, Misc and all.