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Too Much Stuff
Mar. 9th, 2004 12:00 pmToday I helped someone who is moving from a big house to a small two-bedroom apartment to sort through his things. His house is not only big but extremely well designed with oodles and oodles of storage space. There are shelves on every wall in the house that doesn't already have built-in cabinets, desks, etc. Did I mention the two-car garage? The attic?
The guy is taking the necessary paring down very well. Although he wants all his fishing books, for example, he's willing to take only two-thirds of his fly-tying equipment, only the archery books that are historical, maybe ten percent of his tools, etc.
I find the whole thing very traumatic, because I imagine myself in his place. You collect so many things over the years. He's giving up most of his pipe collection, since he can't smoke. Most of his knife collection. All the tiny model cars he's made, some of papier mache.
But then he's also been finding things he didn't know he had or still had. Things he really could have used. And many things have been stored so long that they are no longer in good shape. Books can get mildewy and brittle. Cans can explode.
Part of me wanted to go home and throw out virtually everything. Follow the advice in Don Aslett's Clutter's Last Stand, which has many stories about how having too much stuff can affect your life adversely. Just hang on to a few things that I use repeatedly and that I love so much that I will enjoy taking it out and lovingly cleaning it every week, like stereotypical teenaged boys with new cars. Keep only the best books and movies, that I re-read or re-watch and lend out regularly. Only the clothes I wear every week, in each kind of weather, or choose first for special occasions. Only my favorite wall hangings.
But then we get into the problem of hobbies. I have many, many hobbies. Fortunately, I am not one of those people who gets all imaginable equipment for every hobby. Still, I have more hobbies than I can participate in during a single year. For example, if I got rid of everything I haven't used in the past year, that would mean getting rid of my sewing machine, a couple of boxes of fabric, and some patterns; my cleats (ultimate frisbee); most of my cookbooks; most of my sheet music and maybe my guitar; most of my gardening tools and supplies (all but the shovel); my tent, sleeping bags, camping lantern, buddy-burner-making materials, and hiking boots; my roller skates and roller blades; most of my reference books; and who knows what else? But I don't like not doing these hobbies; I just don't have time!
Still, perhaps there are a few things I can admit I will probably never use again. Perhaps a few movies, books, and games. A few shirts and an old coat. Things that are broken, things that have been replaced.
But what about things like those clothes I have that I never wear because they collect too much lint in the washer? I expect to own a drier someday, and that will take care of the lint problem. Then there's that huge pile of stuff I'm saving in case Robin and I split up one day. But I even have trouble with pathetic items like a home-made trebuchet, broken into splinters. (No, I don't have it anymore.) And what about my rock collection, which I leave out hoping that some kid will ooh and ah over it, so I can give it away. I believe I've only ever had a total of three kids in my house.
One of my biggest problems is getting rid of things that someone would like. How can I connect those things with happy owners? For books, I found out that my library can usually find a way to use them. The ones that they don't want, they put out to sell for cheap. The ones that don't sell, they put out on the free table. And most things get taken: almost everything except tattered old books and sets of encyclopedias and National Geographic. I guess resale shops, thrift shops, and various charities are good for clothing, toys, and household goods. Habitat for Humanity takes home improvement stuff. Still, I have a lot of bags of books sitting at my house, and it took me several weeks even to return a bad purchase to the store. Apparently I have issues.
I'm remembering what my grandmother's apartment looked like after she died. Everything was in place except one plate with some crumbs on it, a knife, and a glass. It was truly amazing. If I had died that day instead of her, it would have been a nightmare going through my stuff. Just out of pure politeness, I should do something.
The guy is taking the necessary paring down very well. Although he wants all his fishing books, for example, he's willing to take only two-thirds of his fly-tying equipment, only the archery books that are historical, maybe ten percent of his tools, etc.
I find the whole thing very traumatic, because I imagine myself in his place. You collect so many things over the years. He's giving up most of his pipe collection, since he can't smoke. Most of his knife collection. All the tiny model cars he's made, some of papier mache.
But then he's also been finding things he didn't know he had or still had. Things he really could have used. And many things have been stored so long that they are no longer in good shape. Books can get mildewy and brittle. Cans can explode.
Part of me wanted to go home and throw out virtually everything. Follow the advice in Don Aslett's Clutter's Last Stand, which has many stories about how having too much stuff can affect your life adversely. Just hang on to a few things that I use repeatedly and that I love so much that I will enjoy taking it out and lovingly cleaning it every week, like stereotypical teenaged boys with new cars. Keep only the best books and movies, that I re-read or re-watch and lend out regularly. Only the clothes I wear every week, in each kind of weather, or choose first for special occasions. Only my favorite wall hangings.
But then we get into the problem of hobbies. I have many, many hobbies. Fortunately, I am not one of those people who gets all imaginable equipment for every hobby. Still, I have more hobbies than I can participate in during a single year. For example, if I got rid of everything I haven't used in the past year, that would mean getting rid of my sewing machine, a couple of boxes of fabric, and some patterns; my cleats (ultimate frisbee); most of my cookbooks; most of my sheet music and maybe my guitar; most of my gardening tools and supplies (all but the shovel); my tent, sleeping bags, camping lantern, buddy-burner-making materials, and hiking boots; my roller skates and roller blades; most of my reference books; and who knows what else? But I don't like not doing these hobbies; I just don't have time!
Still, perhaps there are a few things I can admit I will probably never use again. Perhaps a few movies, books, and games. A few shirts and an old coat. Things that are broken, things that have been replaced.
But what about things like those clothes I have that I never wear because they collect too much lint in the washer? I expect to own a drier someday, and that will take care of the lint problem. Then there's that huge pile of stuff I'm saving in case Robin and I split up one day. But I even have trouble with pathetic items like a home-made trebuchet, broken into splinters. (No, I don't have it anymore.) And what about my rock collection, which I leave out hoping that some kid will ooh and ah over it, so I can give it away. I believe I've only ever had a total of three kids in my house.
One of my biggest problems is getting rid of things that someone would like. How can I connect those things with happy owners? For books, I found out that my library can usually find a way to use them. The ones that they don't want, they put out to sell for cheap. The ones that don't sell, they put out on the free table. And most things get taken: almost everything except tattered old books and sets of encyclopedias and National Geographic. I guess resale shops, thrift shops, and various charities are good for clothing, toys, and household goods. Habitat for Humanity takes home improvement stuff. Still, I have a lot of bags of books sitting at my house, and it took me several weeks even to return a bad purchase to the store. Apparently I have issues.
I'm remembering what my grandmother's apartment looked like after she died. Everything was in place except one plate with some crumbs on it, a knife, and a glass. It was truly amazing. If I had died that day instead of her, it would have been a nightmare going through my stuff. Just out of pure politeness, I should do something.