Today I decided it was going upstairs, so I asked girlchild to move everything out, move the box, and then put everything back inside. Turns out there were textbooks in the bottom, as well as a couple of award citations that somehow never made it into my permanent service record.
But that's not the good part. One of the textbooks was hubby's physical geography book from one of his community college courses, and I walked out of the kitchen to find girlchild sitting on the floor, leaning against the box, and eagerly reading about crystal formation.
Who cares how long it takes to get the stuff upstairs?