Most of the boxes look intact, although I'm not sure about all of them, and the dish pack looked surprisingly beat up for a container specifically designed to be carrying what I put in it. I've been afraid to open it and the also-bashed TV box, and I'm wondering how well the framed artwork survived in its box. The wooden tables that I didn't get rid of back in Tampa seem to have survived only slightly worse for the wear (they weren't in great shape to start with); the coffee table of doom is on its end in the garage. I have half a mind to see how much the garbage service will charge to haul at least that piece away, although I'll probably keep the other two pieces for the foreseeable future.
I can't say my room looks settled in yet: there are tables literally stacked on top of one another, very few clothes have been unpacked. I'll need to get stops for the bed wheels to keep it from rolling around on the hardwood floor--having lived on carpet before, the bed pretty much stayed put unless you gave it a good shove, but now I can roll it by bouncing on the bed in a particular direction. (I just turned one of the wheels at a right angle to the others, which will hopefully slow it down for a bit.)
Even so, it's my bed, which I haven't had in a little over three weeks--the last time I slept on it was Monday, November 11th. I've missed it. It's surprising how attached you can get to something like a bed. (Granted, it's a Stearns & Foster, an insanely good brand bought when I really couldn't afford it. If I'd had a cheaper mattress, I'd have given more serious consideration to just selling everything that couldn't be boxed and moving by parcel post.)
It's been an awfully busy and tumultuous three weeks. Now, off to sleep.