Okay, real talk. I helped my friend Sarah move last fall, and it almost ended our 20-year friendship.

We were standing in her new garage, surrounded by what looked like the contents of a bombed-out IKEA. Boxes everywhere. A disassembled bed frame. A kayak, for some reason. She was on the verge of tears. I was on the verge of just backing my car out of the driveway and pretending I’d lost my phone.

The problem was the 10×10 storage unit she’d rented. It looked tiny. Our first attempt at loading it was a disaster. We just carried things in and set them down where there was space. After an hour, it looked like a yard sale had thrown up in there. We couldn’t get to the back, the light stuff was buried under the heavy stuff, and we’d already broken a lamp.

The Pretzel-Fueled Revelation

We took a break, sitting on the curb, sharing a bag of pretzels. And that’s when it hit me. It wasn’t a moving problem. It was a Tetris problem.

“Remember Tetris?” I said, through a mouthful of pretzel.

Sarah glared at me. “Not helpful.”

“No, seriously,” I said. “We’re playing it wrong. We’re just dropping the ‘S’ block wherever it fits first. We’re not planning. We’re not building lines.”

She sighed. “What’s the ‘S’ block in this scenario?”

“That’s the kayak,” I said, pointing. “It’s the most awkward piece on the board. We need to build around it.”

So, we started over. And we made up our own rules, right there on the fly.

Rule 1: The Weird Stuff Goes Last

In Tetris, you don’t lead with the ‘Z’ block. You save it. So, we took the kayak, the floor lamps, the bike, and the fake ficus tree and put them in a “weird stuff” zone outside the unit. They were the last pieces to go in, to be slotted into the perfect gaps we’d create.

Rule 2: Create a “Wall” First

We needed a solid back line. So, we dragged all the biggest, squarest items to the back. Her bookcase, her dresser, her solid wood desk. We stood them up like they would be in a room. Then, we filled them. Books on the shelves. Clothes in the drawers. We weren’t just storing boxes; we were using the furniture as storage. It was a revelation.

Rule 3: The Magic Aisle

This was the game-changer. We left a path. A skinny little aisle, just wide enough for one of us to walk down, from the door all the way to the back wall. It felt like we were wasting precious space, but it was the opposite. That aisle meant we could actually get to the stuff at the back. It turned a chaotic pile into an accessible storage space.

Rule 4: Stack Like You Mean It

We got smart about boxes. The heavy ones—full of books, or her cast-iron pot collection (don’t ask)—went on the bottom. Always. The light ones, full of linens and Christmas decorations, went on top. We made pyramids, not towers. A wobbly tower means game over. A pyramid is stable. We also labeled every single box on the side facing the aisle with a fat black marker. “KITCHEN – POTS.” “LIVING ROOM – DVDs.” No more mystery boxes.

It took us another two hours. But by the end, we weren’t fighting. We were laughing, calling out “T-Spin!” when we perfectly slotted a box into a tricky corner. That kayak? We ended up hanging it from the ceiling hooks in the unit. It was our final, triumphant “line clear.”

The unit wasn’t just full; it was organized. You could stand at the door and see where everything was. It was a thing of beauty.

The Bottom Line

And you know what made it all work? Having a good “game board.” The unit at 3D Self Storage was clean, it was dry, and it had those high ceilings that let us build up. It felt secure, which let us take our time and do it right. A grungy, damp unit would have had us just throwing things in and running for the door.

So, next time you’re facing a mountain of stuff, just ask yourself: “What would a Tetris master do?” Build your wall. Leave your aisle. Save the kayak for last. It turns a nightmare into a puzzle, and a puzzle is something you can actually win.