An abandoned 1-800-Flowers box with a dozen lifeless roses rests on a lounge table. An unopened 12-pack of Campbell's Tomato soup, two International Economics textbooks and a pair of hot orange cargo pants with a tag still attached are piled in a wilting cardboard box. A 40-ounce bottle of Colt 45 Malt Liquor is supported by a tower of discarded clothing. "It's insane what people are throwing out," Gayle McGlevin '06 said.

May 13, 2004.

It's move-out day. Fifteen cars and vans honk and maneuver around the not-so-car-friendly East Quad, parents and students haul bedding and boxes, mini-fridges and memorabilia to the already-packed trunks of minivans and SUVs. Thirteen overstuffed black trash bags rest in the entranceway to Hassenfeld, abused computer keyboards and plastic storage containers protruding out the rips.

The remains sit in the hallways, expelled from the plush surroundings of a campus dorm room and lacking the required qualities to be taken home or put in storage. With students kicked out of their rooms, countless belongings lie ownerless in the abandoned dormitory halls. From furniture to food, clothing to textbooks, as the boxes and car trunks are filled to capacity, the leftover debris litters the hallways.

Some items were gladly left behind, such as an overused pair of shower flip-flops or jeans now too small after the "freshman 15." Others, like full bottles of laundry detergent, down comforters and functioning microwaves required more justification for their desertion.

"It's wasteful, but it's inconvenient to do anything else with it," Abbie Wolf '06 said, who later affirmed that the DVD player she threw out was, in fact, broken.

"I think it's ridiculous that so many people are willing to throw out so much money for convenience," McGlevin said about on the unopened food items, detergent and unworn clothing she encountered in the halls.

Other items were forced sacrifices-the only practical option. Considering the price of storage or shipping, students can often purchase a new product more cheaply than keeping the old one.

As Kate Pouliard '06 placed a lilac beanbag chair in the "Dump and Run" bin in her hall, she explained, "It's been sat on so much that it does not really provide much of a barrier between the floor and the person ... plus, there's no room in the car." Torn by the prospect of purchasing another $45 storage spot from a private company, or of enduring four hours with no leg space on the drive back to New Jersey, many students will make the same judgment call as Pouliard.

The advent of the "Dump and Run" donation boxes located sporadically throughout every dormitory and in most halls, introduced a new philanthropic element to the moving process, salvaging what would otherwise go to waste.

At the end of the week, the organizers of "Dump and Run" compiled all the items in the boxes and organized them for a giant yard sale. The proceeds went to charity.

"I think it (the donated items) just reflects that we have a lot of stuff. The donations are nice. It's a good thing. I mean, we don't really need all the stuff we have," Robin Katz '06 said. "At the same time, I am also skeptical of how much of this will be actually going to donations."

Bailey Orshan '06 threw away a "cute" Gap sweater, justifying the toss because the sweater didn't fit well. She had already established that none of the four girls sitting around her in the lounge would adequately fit in the sweater. Thus she and her friends deemed her wastefulness defensible.

Not only outsiders can benefit from students' dubious refuse.

One parent passing on his last run of the day said, "it was great to walk through all the halls and scavenge from the dumps."

"Dumpster diving" gives credence to the adage "One man's trash is another man's treasure." Wolf saved an old Spanish children's book from the trash, explaining that she would frame the pictures as decoration for her room. Another student searched for black pants that she said she needed for a catering job that weekend. Students staying on campus for extended periods snatched up detergent and food items, an easy source for sustenance and money saving.

For those students who were forced to part with sentimental sneakers or Orientation and "Louis Louis" plastic mugs and cups, the price of over-accumulation may seem high. While the rest of the car or box was filled with practical items like shower totes or Levis, some items just didn't make the cut, and must be preserved in memory. In the meantime, Brandeis should just try to guarantee that the abandoned 40-ounce bottle of malt liquor doesn't fall into the wrong hands.