In his Simple Life Prattle blog, Allan Douglas frequently writes about the strides he and his wife have made in their effort to streamline their lives. Reducing clutter and living with fewer possessions has been a big part of that, along with trading in their big-city home for five acres in the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. Much more space, many fewer things, and an amazing view.
My wife and I had a similar urge several years ago, but we went out for pizza and by the time we got home, the feeling had vanished. The problem is, we have too much stuff. Old computers and printers, as well as cables, modems, and power cords. Monitors the size of small boats. Jigsaw puzzles with missing pieces, board games we keep in case someone might want to play them someday, videotapes of movies we recorded off the television and whose titles are no longer readable because the labels have turned brown with age. A cappuccino machine sits proudly on our kitchen counter; we haven’t made cappuccino since 1997.
At some point, probably during our Costco years, I began stocking up on underwear. Underwear! As though I might run out of them one day, the way you run out of milk. I guess I worried that I’d open my top drawer and see that I had no underwear left and suddenly remember that I was supposed to pick up some on my way home because I had used the last three pairs the day before. It may have been related to my typical male tendency to treat underwear like a pet I can’t bear to part with, holding onto each pair until it’s little more than an elastic band with tassels. My mother, like all mothers before and since, warned me about always wearing presentable underwear in case I ever got into an accident. As a child I tried to connect the two ideas in a logical way. I imagined lying on the street in a pool of my own blood with shards of broken windshield and a bent hubcap piercing my neck, and hearing the paramedics say, “We’ve done all we can for him. But before we leave, let’s rip his pants off and see what kind of shape his underwear is in.”
One year my wife and I got the idea to rent a space at the local flea market. That way, we reasoned, we could get rid of a ton of clutter and make some money at the same time. So extremely early on a Saturday morning, we filled the car with boxes of items and drove to the flea market location. We arrived to find hundreds of other vendors all unloading their vans and trucks. After setting up the table and carefully positioning our treasures for maximum display effectiveness, we affixed price stickers to each one and sat down to wait for the onslaught of crazed customers. We sat all morning and into the afternoon. We sat through blistering sun and swarms of incredibly irritating gnats. We sat and sat. Actually, I’m exaggerating. Sometimes we stood up and walked around to avoid forming blood clots in our thighs. But mostly we sat and watched millions of people stroll by our table. Often they would stop to carefully examine every item, then leave without saying a word. One of the things we were selling was a bright yellow metal pitcher with a round handle and a long pointed spout. After three or four hours of watching people pick it up and put it down, I began to fantasize about clubbing someone over the head with the pitcher, holding it by the long pointed spout for maximum impact.
A little after two o’clock, I decided that it might be a good idea to wander around and take a look at what the other vendors were doing. They seemed to be having better luck, and maybe they knew something we didn’t. I would do some spying, then return and employ their methods, impressing my wife with my new-found sales prowess. During my mission I also found some great bargains. I was gone a good forty-five minutes, and when I returned to the table, my wife said no one had even been by to paw over our items. I told her about the wondrous things I had seen five rows over and we both went to look. We bought many of those things and hauled them back to our table. Soon the flea market was over and we went home with all of our stuff and the great stuff we had purchased, too. It almost didn’t fit in the car.
We now have a coat closet no one has looked into since the second term of the Clinton administration. It’s a dangerous place, filled with boots, brooms, and vacuum cleaner attachments. We have kitchen cabinets that, when you open the door, you have to jump out of the way. You know that junk drawer you have in your house, the one that’s jammed with things you don’t know what else to do with? We have dozens of big Rubbermaid crates filled with that stuff, things that defy placement or even categorizing. About once a year I open up one of the crates, determined to sort out its contents. Within minutes I’m sitting on the floor, yelling and throwing things and punching myself in the face.
In 2002, I bought a box of fifty thousand staples. If my life were hanging in the balance I couldn’t tell you why. I still have a box of five thousand staples I bought in 1978. I also have boxes of paper clips, clamps, rubber bands, and push pins. We have no money, but our children will never want for fasteners.
We have bolts of fabric. (For any men who might be reading this, a bolt of fabric is a thick cardboard roll, about five feet long, that’s wrapped with yards and yards of material that was purchased at a clearance sale from stores with names like Fabric Land and Fabric World. Bolts may be easily stood on end, leaned against a wall, and ignored for years at a time. If you accumulate enough bolts, I think the theory goes, you can one day open your own store and maybe call it Fabric Universe.) (If my wife happens to be reading this, I’m just kidding. I love bolts of fabric, and consider them to be members of the family.)
I mentioned our old camcorder in a previous post. That astonishingly-enormous piece of equipment still sits on a shelf in a spare room. And I say our old camcorder, but in fact, it was my wife’s camera and she had it long before she met me. In moments of frustration, I occasionally start to say something like, “Either the camera goes or I go,” but then I’m overcome with doubts about my own self-worth and I shut up.
Maybe I should mention here that we’re not out of control. We’ve watched those television shows about hoarders, people who have so much stuff that they need pogo sticks to get from one room to another. It isn’t nearly that bad, although there are a lot of cardboard boxes, the ones that clock radios and toasters came in, along with the assorted chunks of styrofoam, transparent bags, and twist ties. We’d saved the boxes when the appliances were new, just in case something had to be returned to the store. The clock radios and toasters are long gone, but the boxes are still here.
We also have a large plastic bag filled with old doorknobs. I don’t know what to say about that.
So how will my wife and I follow Allan’s example and simplify our lives? For one thing, we could use the bolts of fabric to make our own underwear. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that sooner, although the floral prints have may something to do with it. Or I could continue to stockpile triple packs of boxer briefs, eventually accumulating enough inventory to open my own store: Underwear World. That seems unrealistic. Maybe I’ll gather my excess staples and paper clips and donate them to a local charity, the kind that does a lot of mailing and filing. An eBay business is also a possibility. I’m pretty sure there’s a big demand for old camcorders and cappuccino machines, and metal pitchers with long pointed spouts.
But chances are, we’ll just rent a table at the local flea market. And who knows? While we’re there, we might find the perfect thing to fill that gaping empty space we still have in one corner of the living room.
Nonijo
December 15, 2010
I never rated anything before, so I thought I was supposed to hit all 5 stars. Ended up rating a poor, which is what I certainly wasn’t doing.
Thought this was cute.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 15, 2010
Thanks, Noreen. Glad you liked it, and don’t worry about the rating.
LikeLike
icedteawithlemon
December 15, 2010
I love this … so very funny, and so very true to my own life! I loved the line, “My wife and I had a similar urge several years ago, but we went out for pizza and by the time we got home, the feeling had vanished.” And the paragraph about men’s attachment to their worn-out underwear was hilarious! I am not a candidate for that show about hoarding, either, but I frequently have felt guilty about my over-stuffed closets and my three (not one) kitchen junk drawers–not guilty enough to clean any of them out, though. I feel so much better after reading this! Great job!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 15, 2010
And buying a bigger house isn’t the answer, because then we just go out and get even more stuff. Ours is the only house on the block without a garage (we converted it into an office), but everyone parks their cars in the driveway — because the garages are filled with junk, too.
Thanks for the nice comment.
LikeLike
Earth Ocean Sky Redux
December 15, 2010
We have the luxury of owning two homes so when we think one house is getting cluttered, we move “good stuff” to the other house. It’s a lateral move that gets rid of nothing, and now part of the garage at house #2 is what we call “long term storage”. Never trust anyone who throws everything out. THEY are the people to watch out for. Who knows, your heirs might one day appear on Antiques Roadshow with that camcorder to find out they have a “national treasure.”
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 15, 2010
The idea that we may be holding onto priceless future antiques is definitely part of the mentality, EOS. I’m still trying to recover from the loss of my comic books and baseball cards, thrown out decades ago by my mother. So now we look at every Happy Meal toy and Pokemon collector’s tin and wonder: could this be the thing we’ll wish we didn’t toss? There’s no way to know for sure, so we keep everything.
LikeLike
Allan Douglas
December 15, 2010
This was very funny Charles! And I am honored to have served as your inspiration.
The line “My wife and I had a similar urge several years ago, but we went out for pizza and by the time we got home, the feeling had vanished.” caused me to shoot coffee through my nose into my keyboard. As soon as I’m through here I’m going to blow it out with an air compressor. The keyboard, not my nose, although… ummm… nah; maybe not.
Good luck with your next flea market. If that does not reduce the load in the car for the return trip I recommend stopping by the Goodwill or other charity thrift shop on your way home. You won’t make any cash this way, but you can take the fair market value of the items off your taxes as a donation. If you itemize your taxes. If not… well just think of all the space you’ll have in your home for new underwear!
Thanks for the entertaining read!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 15, 2010
Thank you for the inspiration, Allan. And, yes, we’ve donated a lot of stuff to a local thrift store called Value Village, which gives part of its sales to the Canadian Diabetes Association. But then we usually feel so proud of ourselves that we go out shopping.
LikeLike
heidit
December 15, 2010
I love this post. Having just moved, I can completely and totally relate to both the collection of odd items, the frustration of still having them, the desire to get rid of them and, ultimately, the failure to do so. I can’t tell you how many items I picked up, looked at and thought, “I should get rid of this,” right before I talked myself into packing it to the new house.
For example: I have hundreds of books–both read and unread. Among those hundreds of books is a collection of books I either strongly disliked or hated. Yet I haven’t brought myself to get rid of them. Why? Because at some point in the future, I might think to myself, “Hey, Heidi, you may have misjudged that book. Maybe you should read it again to see.” Or, I might want to write a blog post and need a quote from a book I hated. So I keep the books.
Also a bag of cords that I’m not convinced I even know what electronic they go with–or that I still even have that electronic. Files from years ago, just in case. Clothes that haven’t been in style since the late 90s–but they could come back. I know I could donate a lot of this stuff, what if I need it again? Knick knacks that were given as gifts and serve no other purpose than to collect dust.
My goal right now is not so much to get rid of things, it’s to not collect more things. At some point, I’ll try to get rid of some stuff. Or not.
Your line about going out for pizza had me laughing, too. I often get the urge to purge stuff but within the hour, it vanishes.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 16, 2010
I think the trick is to start. I’ve noticed that once I’ve gotten rid of things, I don’t miss them nearly as much as I thought I would. Most of the time, I completely forget about them. Although, there have also been times when I forgot that I got rid of something, then tore the house apart looking for it.
Allan and Marie devised a good strategy: When they bring in a new item, they eliminate an old one. My wife and I tried to modify that plan by eliminating two things every time we bring in one new one. So far that hasn’t worked at all, but it still seems like a good idea.
LikeLike
mirroredImages
December 15, 2010
Have you still got that pitcher? I think if you hang on to it for a few more decades, you just might have an antique on your hands.
Kevin and I tend to have a hard time throwing crap away too. Last night we were rummaging about in our pantry, looking for a couple canned food items to donate to the kids’ after-care program at school as part of a food drive. We came across cans of soup from 2007 and one box of taco shells from 1998. That’s older than our kids. We are very bad people.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 16, 2010
That antique idea is a very big part of the problem. And I hate to admit this, but I’m following your lead. We’ve found things in our refrigerator that caused us to say, “No, that must be some kind of code or something. It can’t be the expiration date. Could it?”
LikeLike
shoreacres
December 15, 2010
I grew up with a custom we called “Grandma’s New Year Toss”. To prepare for the new year, she went through the house and everything that hadn’t been worn, used or needed in the past year was given away or sold. Family photos, heirloom quilts and such were excepted, as were tools, embroidery floss and quilt scraps, books and odd kitchen items – like sausage stuffers.
But common possessions – outgrown clothing or shoes, no-longer-used toys, old magazines, gifts received but never used, the curtains from the back that were taken down with no use found for them? Gonzo.
I’ve been more or less faithful to the tradition, but I’m growing more faithful each year. Less is more, I’m finding – and it’s wonderful to enter the New Year with clean closets as well as a clean slate!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 16, 2010
The idea of storing things in the attic is an interesting one. Stuff stays up there for years and years. If it’s that unimportant that it gets banished to the dustiest, coldest, hottest, creepiest part of the house, why keep it at all?
Thanks for the comment. I’m going to use the inspiration I’ve received from both you and Allan to make the new year less cluttered than the previous twenty have been.
LikeLike
Amiable Amiable
December 15, 2010
PLEASE keep the old camcorder! It’s so hard to pick a favorite from your posts, but that one still makes me laugh just thinking about it!
My husband and I have been a couple for 25 years. Every single year, his mother has given him at least four packages of underwear and six packages of black gold-toe socks for his birthday. That math post you did? I’m reminded of that!
I’m also afraid that we will one day be like those crazy brothers in NYC who were found dead among stacks and stacks and stacks of newspapers. We’ll be buried alive by unopened packages of underwear and socks. You saw the photos of my diningroom table. It’s possible.
I think my husband and I should give shoreacres’ “Grandma’s New Year Toss” a try. What a great idea! Or his mother needs an underwear and socks intervention.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 16, 2010
No need to worry about the camcorder. Even if I tried to throw it away, I’m sure it would somehow end up back in the house.
An underwear and socks intervention — AA, that sounds like a post in the works.
LikeLike
Betty Londergan
December 15, 2010
I laughed myself hoarse through this … you are so hilarious! I’m not sure I should know that much about your penchant for buying underwear but the “elastic band with tassels” completely cracked me up. I love that you admit that you have bolts of fabric… and of course, the flea market incident was priceless (hmmm, that’s a thought — just give the crap away!) Plus, the reference to your insanely huge camcorder (i loved that post so much, i can’t tell you) set me off on another wave of hysteria. This might be my favorite “Mostly Bright” column ever!!!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 16, 2010
Just to clarify, I don’t own any bolts of fabric. I’m just the caretaker. But, yes, giving the stuff away would be easier than trying to sell it, and we wouldn’t have to haggle with people who want to offer us thirty cents for a one-dollar item that we originally paid thirty-five dollars for.
Thanks for the nice words, Betty.
LikeLike
Marie M
December 16, 2010
Thank you, thank you! I loved this post, and identified with it on more points than I’m willing to admit to. I’m going to go to sleep now with a happy smile on my face–as long as I am not distracted and absorbed by trying to figure out how/why you might have used your last three pairs of underwear all in one day. [Please don’t make the mistake of thinking that I’m actually asking you to explain. I’m not–really! ]
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 16, 2010
I thought of you several times while writing this post. Do you think this tendency to accumulate stuff (which sounds better than hoarding), is just an extreme form of the need to prepare for possible future poverty? We were raised by Depression-era parents, so we find security in knowing that we’ll never run out of certain things. It’s similar to people who build bomb shelters and underground bunkers, only we do a lot less digging. Well, a little less digging.
LikeLike
dearrosie
December 16, 2010
another great post BB. How on earth do you manage to write several posts a week and each one funnier than the one before?
I loved the line
“The clock radios and toasters are long gone, but the boxes are still here.”
maybe because that’s what my Mr F does. Our garage is full of empty boxes and old door knobs.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 16, 2010
Do you have some kind of timetable for when to finally throw away the boxes? After the warranty runs out, maybe? The whole thing is pretty ridiculous, all based on the one thought that “We might need this someday.”
LikeLike
dearrosie
December 16, 2010
My husband’s office shuts down every year between Xmas and New Year, and every year he tells me that he’s going to CLEAN out the garage when he’s home (I don’t have that week off – its a busy time at the Museum where I work). I’ll let you know what he does this year. I’m not holding my breath as they say…
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 16, 2010
I hope this is the year. It could happen.
LikeLike
Priya
December 16, 2010
Could I have the pitcher if you still have it? Or will it have to be in the next flea market?
This post reminds me of my parents – the ever-gatherers. The entire world has been telling them to shed a little, but they go out to eat pizza often enough, as you put it. My mother will be delighted at your wife’s fabric bolt collection. And my father at your collection of gadgetry since Adam.
Brilliant words, and expressions as always, Charles!
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 16, 2010
If I find the pitcher, I’ll save it for you. I don’t think there’s really going to be a next flea market.
But thank you, Priya, for the kind words. By the way, I loved your latest post:
http://partialview.wordpress.com/2010/12/16/loving-and-how/
LikeLike
arborfamiliae
December 16, 2010
Great post, as usual. There are so many things that resonate with my life in this post, it’s hard to pick what to comment about! The thousands of staples stuck out, particularly because one of my weaknesses is pens. I shudder to think how many hundreds or even thousands of pens are in our house, my office, our garage, my pocket, my car… I don’t know what makes me think I’ll ever need so many pens.
But in my case, I think I come by it genetically. My grandfather was a collector. He kept anything that had any potential for usefulness (in his opinion). My mother is the same way. As is my son. I wonder if they’ve tagged the gene for it yet? And when they’ll figure out how to delete that gene in the next generation…
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 16, 2010
I’m the same way with pens, markers, highlighters, and lately, pencils. I used to imagine winning the lottery and buying an office supply store. I’d convert the entire place to my office, set up a desk right in the middle of the store, and anytime I ran out of paper clips, I’d just stroll over to aisle 3 and get some. (If this ever happens, I’ll send you a few hundred cases of pens, no charge.)
LikeLike
shoreacres
December 16, 2010
You know, right in the middle of dinner tonight I suddenly remembered the words of one of my favorite philosophers. That would be the one who said, Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose… Seems applicable, somehow.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 17, 2010
I have that song on a tape and was looking for it not five days ago. Of course, I couldn’t find it. I must have stashed it somewhere in the house when we got our most recent car, which doesn’t have a cassette player. (Lord, won’t you buy me a Joplin CD?)
It doesn’t seem practical at this point for me to rid myself of all, or even most, of my possessions. But letting go of emotional attachments to them and creating more room to focus on what’s really valuable, that would be freedom. Or at least a pretty good taste of it.
Thank you, Linda. Merry Christmas to you and Dixie Rose, and everyone who’s valuable to you.
LikeLike
Sire
December 17, 2010
You know as I was reading this I had a feeling you were going to come back with more than what you started with. 😉
I have a tendency to hoard things, not so my wife. There’s been more than one occasion when I would go into the wardrobe to put on one of my prize possessions, like the denim jacket or shirt, only to find out that she’s put it in the poor box. This from a woman who takes up 3/4 of the wardrobe!
I’ve often fantasized of doing the same thing to her but I value my life and my sanity.
Say, just as an afterthought, have you ever thought of eBay?
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 17, 2010
Wish I had some advice for you on the wardrobe situation, but I’m in the same boat. It’s the same with closets and bathroom storage: Even if it starts out half-and-half, her stuff slowly takes over, like a spreading rash.
You’re wise to resist the temptation for revenge.
I did mention eBay toward the end of the post. But too much of the stuff wouldn’t be worth the cost of shipping it.
Thanks for the comment, Sire.
LikeLike
cooperstownersincanada
December 17, 2010
Nice work! Another engaging, humorous piece. It makes me want to get right of some of the clutter in my house. I’m a sucker for flea markets, used book stores and used record shops. I also subscribe to several magazines. I tend to purge the magazines every couple of years, but then I go to a used book shop and I end up buying a bunch of books that I don’t really need. Maybe I need to set up at a flea market? 🙂
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 17, 2010
Every year my plan is to have a yard sale, but before I know it, the summer’s over.
Not only do I buy too many books, I very often buy the same book twice. Have you done that?
LikeLike
Jessica Sieghart
December 18, 2010
I’m laughing (really laughing) about the hoarders having to use pogo sticks to get from room to room. I’m not as emotionally attached to most things as they are, but I still have a hard time getting rid of anything, even when I complain about how much stuff there is in the house…errr…closets. I have one that kind of resembles Monica’s secret closet on the show Friends. One day, a long time from now, you will see one of my descendants on Pawn Stars or something. Promise! 🙂
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 18, 2010
I just remembered, we actually have a pogo stick. It’s one of the things we tried to sell at a tag sale we had a few years ago, but we couldn’t even get rid of that. Maybe Pawn Stars will want it when it’s an antique.
LikeLike
Val Erde
December 18, 2010
When I have a day or two free, I shall come back and read the comments to this post as they look as fun as the post itself – both your readers’ comments and your own.
🙂
“We have no money, but our children will never want for fasteners.” Great line. Great post, but then your writing is so brill, Charles! (I spent some time today on Amazon looking at your books for teens. I wish I’d had them when I was that age, though we don’t have the same exam system here in the UK and I’m sure the questions are probably similar. Anyway, just to say – I think the books look brill, too!)
I have been trying to find some socks that fit, are comfortable and don’t shrink, for several years. As a result I have far too many socks. Socks of all different colours, fabrics (though no bolts, my grandpa was a tailor and I think that’s the closest my family got to owning bolts of fabric!), sizes, and levels of discomfort. I still haven’t found a comfortable sock, so I am still collecting, but amongst the rejects are some very pretty socks that I’ve never worn (part of a set of six or eight – I tried on one and regretted it) and keep meaning to sell on ebay… and still haven’t. So I understand about the hoarding. Actually – do you think it might be hereditary? My dad was a magpie, and I am one. Though, that said, I do know how to get rid of things… it’s just that new things arrive to replace them. Charity shops have done very well by me.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 18, 2010
I would imagine that it’s part hereditary and part the mindset you grow up with. It seems that many people who grew up during the Depression — or were raised by people who did — learned how to squeeze the value out of everything and waste nothing. I think squirreling things away was just another part of that.
Thank you for the very nice comment, Val. I think your blog is brill, too!
LikeLike
Jessica Sieghart
December 18, 2010
Charles, do you draw the cartoons in your posts?
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 19, 2010
I wish. Actually, I answered the same question a couple of weeks ago for Sire. Here’s what I told him:
I subscribe to a clip-art service called iclipart.com. Once I have the post written enough that I know what illustrations I’d like, I go looking. Usually, I’ll combine two or more pictures into one frame, and add the dialogue. Occasionally, I’ll find a cartoon that’s so good that I have to go back and rewrite the post to make it work.
You, on the other hand, did create the collage for your most recent post, didn’t you? I think it would make a great bumper sticker.
http://jessicasieghart.com/2010/12/on-the-dark-side-2/
LikeLike
Jessica Sieghart
December 19, 2010
I like the way the cartoons mesh with your posts. I admire people who can draw 😉 My mother and sister are both very talented sketchers and painters and I was always envious. Yes, I did put that little collage together, but with images I “borrowed” from the Internet. 😉
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 19, 2010
Have you ever thought of asking your mother and sister to do some illustrations for your blog?
LikeLike
Patricia
December 19, 2010
Hi Charles
I come from a family of hoarders!!! I am exactly the opposite. Don’t keep anything I don’t use or haven’t worn in a year. One time I nearly threw out a telephone bill I hadn’t paid! Rescued it from the bin (your trash can lol) just in time.
If I lived closer I’d offer to help you do a clear out Charles. Only being a hoarder, you’d probably sneak it back inside when I wasn’t looking lol My Dad would go to the local tip with a trailer load of rubbish and come back with someone else’s trash that he saw as his treasure 😉
Have helped one of my friends do a clearout when she was moving house. She is now not a hoarder…..wow took her many years to get there but I think moving house several times in a short space of time was the answer to her decluttering.
Patricia Perth Australia
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 19, 2010
I wonder if there’s a support group called Hoarders Anonymous (HA). There must be, and now I’m starting to think that I am a hoarder. Maybe that’s what the letters in my name stand for: Compulsive Hoarder And Really Lousy Ebay Seller. But there are different degrees of hoarding, right? That’s why we watch those hideous TV shows, so we can say, “Well, I have a lot of stuff, but at least none of my children are missing in the house. Those people have a problem.” If their homes suddenly looked like ours, they’d we weeping with joy. So now I feel better. (But if you do ever decide to move to Canada, maybe we could arrange a consultation.)
LikeLike
Patricia
December 19, 2010
Nice try Charles! A typical hoarder’s reply to talk about a worse hoarder to get us clean freaks off track lol
You are safe for the moment as after many years living and working in the UK I am so over travelling (took 20 plus hours to get home for a visit each year I was there) and also the weather is toooooo cold 😉
Patricia Perth Australia
LikeLike
Mitch
December 19, 2010
Okay this is scary, but when I went into business for myself I went out and bought all sorts of supplies, and I also ended up with 50,000 staples, and so far I have never made it through the first box. Talk about stupidity! lol
We don’t quite have lots of clutter, but we definitely have way more than we should. My wife says every weekend that she’s going into the basement to start clearing stuff out of here; hasn’t happened yet. lol
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 20, 2010
And when she does, those staples may be the first thing to go.
LikeLike
Mitch
December 21, 2010
I’m not telling her about the staples; gotta keep some secrets, right? lol
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 21, 2010
She already knows.
LikeLike
Anklebuster
December 27, 2010
Charles, HeidiT hints at the perfect solution to crap creep.
Move.
I’ve done it at least five times since leaving my parents’ home as a young man. Each time I’ve packed up (or we’ve packed up) until something snaps, mentally. That sound you hear is a foot being placed down, stamping an exclamation on, “…I’m not putting one more thing in a box! I’m through! This is too much junk!”
The first time I did this, I borrowed my aunt’s little Toyota Corolla for a cross-town move. After six (!) trips, I literally gave up. The last items to go were a bunch of winter coats and an armful of unpacked hangers. I left behind nearly 300 Doubleday Book Club Selections, a massive collection of model trains and tracks, dishes, cookware, a bicycle and whatever was on the top shelf of the bedroom closet.
I mourned the loss of the books for months. So much so that my darling wife took to purchasing twenty-five cent books from the local library. Soon, I had a major appliance box full of books. (Do not do this, by the way. A box of books weighs twices as much as an air conditioner.)
When it came time to move again, I refused to part with the books. Therefore, we left behind toys, dishes, cookware, cleaning supplies … you get the idea.
There is a downside to this negligence – you may forfeit your security deposit or run afoul of the “broom-swept clean” clause, if selling.
Whatever.
You’ll sleep better.
Cheers,
Mitch
P.S. Obviously, we never learned to keep it simple. With five kids, that just doesn’t happen.
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 27, 2010
I don’t know if this is true where you live, but there are self-storage facilities springing up everywhere around here. I recently asked the manager of one facility why there were so many such places and she said that people are using them as a second attic. In other words, rather than buy a bigger house, they’re paying a monthly rental fee to keep their stuff locked up. There must be an answer to all of this clutter, but for us, I don’t think that’s it.
LikeLike
Mitchell Allen
December 28, 2010
Ah, yes. Pay for trash disposal. that what we do out here, unless we put the smelly bags into our minivan and drive to the dump.
Oh! You mean the metallic garage-like football fields? Same thing. Snicker. I think they’re good for short-term storage between moves, but paying to store stuff you don’t even use??? Yeah, you’re right, that’s not a solution for me, either.
As an aside, the facilities are simply ground rents for people hoping to build shopping centers when the economy catches up with the area. I learned that in real estate class: best use of land. How ’bout that? 🙂
Cheers,
Mitch
LikeLike
bronxboy55
December 29, 2010
“…the facilities are simply ground rents for people hoping to build shopping centers when the economy catches up with the area.”
And they have an income while they’re waiting. I wish I were that smart.
LikeLike
Lady from Manila
October 11, 2012
“The clock radios and toasters are long gone, but the boxes are still here.” That cracked me up, Charles, as I used to keep the boxes too especially if they were fancy-looking and pretty durable.
I wish I could highly extol the virtues of Minimalism without sounding like I was trying to ram a lifestyle down other people’s throats. It has worked potently for someone like me who has had recurring dreams of being an ascetic monk in a previous life. 🙂
These days, before I allow something to go inside and take up residence in my house, I’ve got to envision its upkeep and the dust it will eventually accumulate. Guess who’s got the sole responsibility of cleaning the said item anyway?
You see, the more I edit, the better I feel, and the happier I become. Simplicity and the feeling of having abundant space have become more and more appealing to me. But I believe neither getting a larger house nor renting storage facility is the answer. When stuff starts to crowd the way inside your abode, it’s simply elimination time. And you just gotta be ruthless. You may come to regret only three or four items you got rid of, but you’ll still survive.. beautifully.
So whenever a friend or family member starts second-guessing about a certain possession, I cut in swiftly and say, “Oh do give it away, give it away.”
Please don’t think I’ve had it easy. I’m still a work-in-progress here. After all, no woman can ever have enough bags, earrings, and nail polish.
Wonderful post, dear bud, and a highly valuable theme as well for me. .
LikeLike
bronxboy55
October 22, 2012
I’d forgotten about this post, Marj, but the need to simplify continues — and the visual reminders are literally all around me. Yes, the dust. Maybe we should use that as the real measure of a thing’s value; the more dust, the less important that item must be.
LikeLike