Things My Wife Complains About #32: Packing

When I met my wife, she had one condition: Move me to Nebraska in the next twelve years or I'll find someone who can. I'm ready to deliver, and we move to Omaha this summer. The only problem: packing. Who is going to put all of the things we own, almost all of which we neither like nor need, into boxes? The answer, unfortunately, is she is. While I've been dutifully unpacking my juvenalia, texting pictures of it to my high school and college friends, and then putting that back into the same boxes, she has been depositing the rest of the house into boxes, taping those boxes, and stacking them in our den.

How many blankets do you think we own? The answer is 5,000,000,000,000, after we donated a bunch. My wife, personally, has 36 tank tops (actual number), which is good because Nebraska screams tank top. We also have several million legos of mutually exclusive sizes. Our kids have not been super helpful. Whenever we secretly remove something, they not only find it but also passionately love it, regardless of how long it's been since they played with it. There are stuffed animals they haven't seen in years, which they now treat as siblings. When I donated a stroller that my daughter no longer used, she stood in the door like a child from a Stephen King novel, staring down the person from Craigslist.

My wife, on the whole, has maintained a pretty good attitude. Not even three times a day she says some variation of "I hate everything" or, more convincingly, "I'm burning everything." But she hasn't burned one thing. Instead, she's packed it all into boxes, and after those boxes have been moved, they'll be unpacked, where she'll remember how much she neither needed nor liked the things inside in the first place. Then we'll get a bunch of new stuff.

Possible solutions!
1) Buy new blankets in Omaha.
2) Commute to Nebraska from New York.
3) Make honest and responsible decisions about what we care about and prepare our future accordingly (hard)

How much for 36 tank tops?