As a child of parents who lived through the Great Depression and then the rationing years of World War Two, I have inherited a sickness. It's not quiet hording, but close. It's call "Saving-something-just-in-case-I-might-need-it-in-the-future." You know like twist ties and short pieces of string. Don't throw out that perfectly good glass jar. You might use it again to store those twist ties. And definitely don't throw any greeting cards of any sort. I can use them for origami.
But one day, I realized the future has arrived and I now have enough glass jars that I could start my own home canning business. And all of those pieces of strung if tied together would stretch from New York to San Francisco. Let's not even talk about the twist ties.
Stuff has taken over. My stuff. My parent's stuff. Stuff that people gave me. Stuff here. Stuff there. Stuff everywhere. I can't get the stuff I really need or use because of all the other stuff. And where does it stop? And here comes my sales pitch... It doesn't, unless you start a hefty round of my Anti-Keep-It Meds.
CSM
But one day, I realized the future has arrived and I now have enough glass jars that I could start my own home canning business. And all of those pieces of strung if tied together would stretch from New York to San Francisco. Let's not even talk about the twist ties.
I realized the other day that my sickness and my apartment have been together way too long and needed to part. In other words, it's time to clean out and clear out my saving habits. I should write it on the back of the post-it note I saved reminding me to save scraps of paper to reuse for the papier mache project I planned to work on three years ago.
Stuff has taken over. My stuff. My parent's stuff. Stuff that people gave me. Stuff here. Stuff there. Stuff everywhere. I can't get the stuff I really need or use because of all the other stuff. And where does it stop? And here comes my sales pitch... It doesn't, unless you start a hefty round of my Anti-Keep-It Meds.
With a study course of these habit-breaking doses, taken at least six times a day, seven days a week, and after about three weeks, you too can began to break down that keep-it-for-use-later habit. That's what happened to me.
First, you have to ask yourself... Why? Why am I saving 15 photographs of a bear at the St. Louis Zoo from a trip ages ago? And what good are three plastic baggies overstuffed with match books from various restaurants? How about a stack of coloring books from when I was five? There's still a few uncolored pages in that Mickey Mouse coloring book, so god forbid I send them to the recycle bin. (Don't worry, they went.)
Next, does it make me happy to see it again when I dig it out out from the back of the drawer? I don't know too many people who get excited over a few loose paper clips cowering in the back of the junk drawer. Set 'em free. Take 'em to work and put them to use.
And last, do you like it in general? I have my mother's hair dryer -- the kind that where you hooked a hose to the blower and it blew up like a balloon on your head. My sister had the chance to sell it. I just couldn't let her do it. And now, I think, why?! What was I thinking? Was keeping this hair dryer that important? Am I planning on sitting around with a blown-up bubble head? I don't have enough hair to make it worth my while.
First, you have to ask yourself... Why? Why am I saving 15 photographs of a bear at the St. Louis Zoo from a trip ages ago? And what good are three plastic baggies overstuffed with match books from various restaurants? How about a stack of coloring books from when I was five? There's still a few uncolored pages in that Mickey Mouse coloring book, so god forbid I send them to the recycle bin. (Don't worry, they went.)
Next, does it make me happy to see it again when I dig it out out from the back of the drawer? I don't know too many people who get excited over a few loose paper clips cowering in the back of the junk drawer. Set 'em free. Take 'em to work and put them to use.
And last, do you like it in general? I have my mother's hair dryer -- the kind that where you hooked a hose to the blower and it blew up like a balloon on your head. My sister had the chance to sell it. I just couldn't let her do it. And now, I think, why?! What was I thinking? Was keeping this hair dryer that important? Am I planning on sitting around with a blown-up bubble head? I don't have enough hair to make it worth my while.
I'm finding that letting go of stuff that's been around for so long has gotten easier. I just do it. My "six times a day, seven days a week, and after about three weeks" doses have worked. My apartment and, oddly enough, my waist have lost a few pounds.
And now, I have just over thirty-five boxes (and counting) of stuff ready to go to auction. I figure I might as well make some money from it. After all, it's lived in my place rent free for years, costing me money to move around, keeping it clean, and tending to, much like a college grad with a philosophy degree still living at home. Thank god it's not a real person. I'd be in really big trouble sending it to auction.
CSM
