February18

why half the stuff?

Are you wondering why I want to cut my stuff in half ? [and I don't mean saw things in half with a chainsaw, though that could be satisfying, too.]

The answer in 5 words: I AM A SHITTY HOUSEWIFE.

Good housewives have stuff and they know where things go and they put them there. I do not know where things go and if I did, I’m SURE I wouldn’t put them there.

Not that this makes me a bad person (I’m a bad person for many other reasons, but this isn’t one of them). In fact, I think this is part of what makes me a good mom and wife – I am mostly able to put the important things ahead of, well, the minutiae. There is always more work to be done in my house – more laundry, dishes, picking up. It never stops. But my kid is only a kid for a short time and when she wants to go outside and jump off the bottom step of the deck for an hour on a sunny day, THAT is what I will choose. Every time.

The colossal mess of chores does get to me, though. If I choose not to pick up the house in favor of playing with Zoe, shit piles up and soon my house feels like a frat house. It’s catalogs and clothespins and toys and socks but it might as well be pizza boxes, beer cans and a water-bong. I’m one beat away from asking Zoe if she was the one who used my Mountain Dew can as a spittoon, because dude, I was still drinking that.

When the house is clean and picked up, it’s incredible. It feels light and airy and full of possibility because I don’t have housework hanging over my head. House picked up = angels singing. Thing is, I’m not willing to make my life about keeping it that way. I just won’t budge on that. It stands to reason that if I have less stuff, I won’t have to spend as much time fucking with it.

We also recently put ourselves on a proper budget. That will help control the amount that comes in. As for what goes out, I’m on a rampage. I credit my transient lifestyle in my twenties with my ability to get rid of things. I moved so many times and so many things got lost in the shuffle it became VERY obvious how little I care about stuff. There are very few things in this world that I would be devastated to lose. I keep that in mind.

You can appreciate something without having to own it. As I was thinning things out today, I came across a lot of stuff I love. I love all of my tin robots. I love my black peep toe shoes. But they really add nothing of substance to my life. I haven’t worn those peep toes in years because they effing HURT my feet and let’s face it – I’m much too old to wear shoes that inflict pain. (Also – my New-Yorker-sister-who-wears-absolutely-crazy-high-heels has feet that look like they’ve been to war.) Even though I love them, it’s ultimately not that hard to let them go. I don’t have to own those robots to appreciate their shiny, boxy goodness. And it’s ridiculous to own shoes that don’t get worn. If you want to try and argue that one, I’m afraid you don’t have a leg to stand on.

What if we thought of our stuff the way we think of food? Great food is about EATING it. Tasting it. Enjoying it. And then it’s gone (for the purpose of this story, it’s gone, stop that train of thought). Are you bummed? No. You’ll get to eat delicious food again. The same is true for a book. You read it, enjoy it, learn from it. It can go. You’ll read another great book. Especially now with the internet, I don’t see much point in even keeping reference books. It’s all available – all the time. We just don’t need to be holding on to much. Functional items only please.

So why half? Because I need a framework. Because I go to extremes. Because I want to feel a big impact. Because I need to practice fractions.

Do you feel attached to your stuff? Would it be hard to go through your house and take out half of the stuff? Do you think you can look at most of your stuff and feel that it adds something positive to your life?

photo: flickr user seier+seier+seier.