Stuff

There are only two solutions to the stuff problem... get more space for stuff or have less stuff. Getting more space seems like a step in the wrong direction. It would mean moving to a bigger place, which I would then probably just fill with stuff and clutter eventually too. Bigger place = bigger bills = working more to pay bills = less time = more stress = NOT seeking simplicity. So only one choice remains.

I come from a long line of seriously skilled pack rats. The two bad habits I was raised with are attaching sentimental value to everything so that it becomes absolutely necessary to keep it, and imagining all the possible situations in which I could use something and then of course being so glad that I'd kept it until then.

For example, this week I was going through boxes looking for something else when I came across the deflated carcasses of balloons from my high school graduation party. Really? I kept those? I guess after high school graduation I was feeling pretty nostalgic about everything and thought that the balloons might somehow help me remember the party? I'm not sure. Twelve years later, I know that they didn't. We had even bought these shiny balloon-weight things to keep them from flying away in the wind... and I kept one of those too. I imagine my thought process was something like, "I don't see any reason to keep all the balloon weights. Saving one will be enough to remember what they looked like." I don't remember but it kind of sounds like me. The thought probably came from my mother originally, as she is the grand master at attaching sentimental value to meaningless objects. We were probably cleaning up from the party and she would've said, "What do you want to do with these balloons?" And I would've said, "What do you mean?" And she would've said, "Well, I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep them for any reason." And while I hadn't before, suddenly I became aware of a strong emotional attachment to these balloons, such that I packed them in a box with my diploma, some scholarship plaques and similar awards, and my white hat with the tassel. Enough about the balloons, but it is perhaps a telling summary that I have moved thousands of miles with a box containing something whose sole function in the world is being heavy.

So there's probably a whole lot of stuff stored in boxes that is in a similar category. Ten, fifteen or twenty years ago these items would've had some kind of sentimental value and today I have no idea what they are. These are the things that will make me laugh at myself as I throw them away or give them away if they might be useful to someone else.

But in so many cases it will not be that easy. I will agonize over some of the decisions, and will ride an emotional roller coaster of indecision. I know because I've tried this whole notion of cleaning out before. I've made progress here and there, but eventually all the feelings wear me out and I give up. I'm wondering how to make it different this time. There's definitely a place for keeping things for sentimental reasons, but there should also be a limit on how much. And some kind of boundaries on what's reasonable to attach sentimental value to in the first place.

So I've decided to start in the kitchen. The kitchen is probably the least cluttered room in the apartment right now so it's not terribly overwhelming to start there. And there's little in the kitchen that's quite so emotionally loaded. Maybe if I can see some progress in the kitchen it will motivate me to be a bit more ruthless in weeding out other rooms.

I started with plastic bags. Certainly plastic bags, collected mostly from shopping, have uses. But realistically, we have no reason to save every plastic shopping bag we ever get. So I picked the best, nicest ones, in an assortment of sizes, and then the rest went in recycling. Clutter reduced, even if only slightly.

I moved on to the cabinet where we keep containers for leftovers. Some are nice containers like Tupperware-type. Those we can keep. We've also accumulated plenty of containers over the years that were originally margarine tubs, or similar. I looked into this cabinet and wondered how many leftovers I was really imagining having at any one point in time. Not even half of these would fit into our freezer and refrigerator. Again, pick the best and nicest ones with a good assortment of sizes, and the rest go into recycling. Can not believe how much extra space is now in that cabinet!

It may seem silly, but these plastic bags and butter tubs represent a small victory. On to the next cabinet!