[likely] last time I'll dry laundry on the back patio
You know what'll start to depress you? Thinking of all the moments of the "last time" you'll do something in your apartment before you move. Hanging up my clothes should not make me cry.
I don't remember getting like this about leaving Ryle 315, but I suppose dorm living has a built-in expiration date. I had enough emotions about my parents moving out of my childhood home, I wrote my English senior seminar paper on the topic. (What up, Jesus and the kittens story!) I'm not a fan of change, and it doesn't get much bigger than choosing to sort through all your belongings, pack them into boxes, move them to another location, and work out where to place all of them again.
I'm glad that I'm staying in the same complex, as that'll keep me with a lot of my status quo (grocery store, bus stop, same distance from the closest movie theater, etc.), but it's still weird to watch this apartment get emptied of furniture and artwork as Deb packs up for Illinois and I pare down for a smaller place. I own far too many things, and will be better off from having cleared out extra items. But I almost need someone else to step in at times to help me sort out if I just really have an emotional attachment to this end table/bookshelf, box of stationary, or just my four and a half years I've lived with them.