Tag: counting my stuff

Personal History

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I am lost in a sea of personal history. Memories and emotions gently rock my present, nudging my attention this way and that.

My room: the repository of my past. Photos from as far back as 1800 and something. My great-grandparents parents photos and maybe their parents too. Some I know, some are magical ghosts of my DNA.

My room: the sanctuary of my creative aspirations. Over 20 boxes of hundreds of beads – many semi-precious stones that I could just caress for hours. I am partial to rubies, they feel mysterious and rich. Aquamarine gives me space, I can’t help but take a deep breath in when working with them. And sapphires are the keepers of  secrets. In boxes in my closet are unpainted canvases, paper cut for projects forgotten and photos I’ve taken and left to die in the back of a drawer.

My room:  the organizational nerve center. Four file drawers hold the remnants of an abandoned organizational system, files numbered and lettered but empty. Files full of bills paid, places to visit, the history of my pets and cherished documents that allow me to wander the earth.

My room: holder of tiny sacred spaces. An altar that continues to grow even though there appears to be no more room, sits atop a large bookcase. As I was counting it I thought I’d find new homes for some of the excess Buddhas and rocks, but there appears to be no such thing as excess Buddhas.

This was to be the last room on my list but something compelled me to “knock it out.” It’s been a week. More than. I’m almost done counting. That was supposed to be the easy part. But to count photos you must touch them and I don’t know about you, but I must also look at them. And as I do I am mentally eliminating some and finding purposes for others. I am sorting and organizing memories as if I can come back to them when I’m ready.

There are just a few boxes of photos left to count and then all the jewelry supplies. I have set a goal to complete the counting by the end of this week – Sunday. In the meantime I am surrounded by a mine field of unfinished projects. And it’s creating heaviness, filling spaces that I need free and open. Cards that need to be cut, photos to be sorted and culled, letters to be read and overall purging. This is just round one.

As I sort through the stuff that has built me I wonder what I am really hoping to gain by this process. My goal from the outset been space and time. I want to be able to walk into my home and not feel compelled to straighten up, but I sense something much deeper at work.

Urgency. I carry with me, deep in my gut, this sense of needing to get things done. Organizing, categorizing, sorting then storing. Get it done, check it off. But when it’s done will I be sad? Will I look for the next thing to accomplish no matter how trivial? Maybe that need will abate once things are ordered. Maybe not. This is the work of the process. This is why to abandon it or hold fast to rules would dilute the outcome.

It’s cranky and itchy, the process, but in a most informative way. It’s doing its work on me and I like, don’t like it. I think that means it’s working.

16 Tiny Buddhas

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I avoided my room like the plague when I was following the Japanese Art of Tidying protocal to declutter last year. It’s her fault, really, Marie Kondo’s. She recommended waiting until everything else was sorted and purged before beginning on sentimental items. I took that to mean craft supplies as well.

So I waited. And waited. Until this year.

My approach to this cataloging, decluttering, organizing task has me going room to room. I do like how Ms. Kondo had me group items last year and if it hadn’t been for that I would probably be in a heap at the back of my closet, murmuring, trying to rock myself back to reality.

I started on my room yesterday. When I say ‘my room’ I am referring to that space that is sometimes a jewelry studio, or a library, or an office, or most recently, a hole full of flat surfaces on which to put things to go through at a later date.

This is that later date.

I dreaded it. Knowing that there was so much stuff in there. So many little tiny things to go through and count. Craft stuff, jewelry making supplies, 2 filing cabinets, a large bookcase full of books and an altar on top hosting a meeting of the tiniest Buddhas and Hindu deities along with shells, crystals, candles and rocks. Always rocks.

But it has been liberating, as I think I knew it would be.

I wasn’t sure exactly what to count, how to count. Do I count every paperclip or just the container holding them? What about paper for the printer? Why count each piece? I decided, for now anyway, to count loose things. Pens, pencils, pads of paper, staplers, that sort of thing. I counted the containers that held pencils and binder clips and every empty file folder. I counted the furniture and artwork and the lamps. When I got to the bookcase I counted everything, down to the last tiny shell and wobbly bronze Ganesh the size of my pinky fingernail.

Altar items:

3 Elephants
6 Ganesh
16 Buddha
5 crystals
25 rocks – I really need to look into the rock obsession
1 rabbit – born in the year of
2 frogs
1 sealed container of Ganges water
1 Quan Yin
4 packages of flower petals – mostly from temples in India
1 dog
2 old Japanese guys – I’m pretty sure there’s a more eloquent term for these wise men
4 cards
2 oil difussers
1 owl – from Slovenia who always makes me smile. Get it? Who?
2 nuts – from a recent trip up north
2 fabric printing block – from India
2 Durgas – she’s my girl
4 shells
2 coral
3 feathers
1 Om tile
1 Ganesh tile
1 prayer for forgiveness
1 snake figurine
1 good fortune cat
1 angel
2 mala bead strands
1 peacock feather fan
1 framed Radha Krishna – painted by my yoga teacher
2 Balinese marriage dolls
1 strand of lampwork beads  – that I made in a class, rudimentary but pretty colors.

In all 101 items on top of the bookcase along with a lamp. Four equal sized shelves beneath it containing 120 books and myriad other trinkets and mementos. But I got to touch every one and consider its purpose, conjure its meaning and decide if it was necessary.

So often we set things where we want them then walk away. We may dust them or around them, but that can be a mindless chore – something to get through – and we don’t fully appreciate those things we chose to bring into our homes. Some of us don’t even dust our own things, some of us don’t even dust. Not naming any names.

While I was counting and cataloging I made some initial decisions and purges. I dumped quite a few magazines in the recycle bin, along with some papers I had been holding onto until I uncovered their importance. There was none. I filed papers that had been lingering in my in box that I had to rifle through on more than one occasion to look for something, which had it been filed in the proper place would have saved me lots of time. That’s part of the end game here – time. I filled a box with items to go to others and added to bags sitting in the garage intended for Good Will or some other thrift store.

I also made note of further culling that needed to take place: files that needed thinning, books that could be appreciated by others now that I’ve absorbed what I could from them. I made some decisions about making jewelry and crafts that surprised me and glanced at the boxes and envelopes of family photos – dating back to the 1800s – I have yet to further organize and scan.

This room has been so many things, so many colors and sometimes a complete design and organizational conundrum. I think I may have made some decisions about that too.

I will tackle the rest over the weekend. It will be completed, the first round of purging and cataloging. That will feel like an accomplishment.

Letting go of what I don’t need so someone who does need it can have it feels noble and sometimes scary. What if I need that someday?

Like a coloring book. Purged 11 of those. Still have 9. I think I’ll be okay.

I Touch My Stuff

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Still counting. Not even close to the end. Completed so far:

Master Bedroom: 1174

Master Bathroom: 228

Linen Closet: 225

Guest Bath: 102

Laundry Closet: 28

Back Patio: 367

Back Yard: 65

Hallway: 22

Grand Total: 2,492 things…so far

There’s something reassuring about handling every single thing in my home. I have begun to purge a few things as I’m going through them, and as much as I’d like to halve the number of items that belong to my husband, I am leaving that up to him. With a few pointed questions, sarcastic faces and “whatever you think” kinda tactics. It works for a while.

When I think about counting the next space my whole body droops a little, but once I start something happens. An appreciation and sense of gratitude for all that I do have softens everything.

The guest room is quite possibly my favorite room in the whole house. It’s light and clean and has a lot of my most beloved things. There’s a hutch with a recessed glass upper cabinet and lower cabinet with solid doors. Oak, I think. Not my favorite wood, but it’s dark and feels sturdy and strong. It was in my Great uncle’s home and when he passed I got my pick of anything. This piece just speaks to me.

Inside the glass cabinet are all those curios that have no real place anywhere else:

  • Dolls my grandmother made and some she brought back from exotic locations
  • A stuffed representation of our schnauzer growing up with his actual collar.
  • A mug from Italy that belonged to the twin brother of the uncle who left me his stuff.
  • A carved cigarette holder that belonged to my grandmother. I can see her holding it and laughing with her head thrown back, a highball in the other gloved hand, Auntie Mame.
  • A house that doubles as a music box my dad brought me from Bermuda.
  • Some random items we have picked up because they spoke to us, that we will likely pass along soon to make room for new treasures.

img_3948The bottom of this piece holds a trove of other items with no permanent home.  These will likely be purged down to a more manageable few.

The things that we are attached to, even for just short time, deserve a place in our lives, in our homes, if they bring us joy and help us recall a special time or person.

This was never about blindly tossing non-essential items. It is about being mindful of what I decide to keep. Mindful of who I pass things along to. And especially mindful of anything I choose to bring in.

I expected to find things that clung to my ankle as I walked out on them and they are showing up. Especially here in this room. They may just stay. At least some of them, at least for a while.

I didn’t count the hangers the hanging clothes were hanging on. In the interest of thoroughness the total is now up to: 2,661.

 

 

 

Master of the Bedroom

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908. That’s how many items are in my master bedroom before I even count my husband’s clothes. I did count every piece of jewelry, scarves (I have a problem there, for sure) and unmentionables. I counted earrings and socks as pairs.

As I was counting, and getting so sleepy, I pulled some items out and put them aside. There is a lot more I want to rehome. I get into that space that I just don’t care about any of it anymore, just want to let it all go. And then I come across something with a sweet memory attached and emit a tiny little swoon, the angel on my shoulder stroking my hair as I fall deeper into my personal history. Or, on the other shoulder, that snarky devil in a hissing whisper baits me with, “you may need that one day.”

There is no easy way to do this.

I have to touch every single item in my home. I brought them all here, they deserve that consideration before letting them go.

I keep reminding myself that so much stress in the world has to do with the management of things. Aside from actual noun-stuff, this also includes appointments, social media, food, relationships, pets, health and I’m sure I’ve forgotten 437 other things.

So if I have less physical stuff, I am jumping to the magical conclusion that I’ll have more peace. More space. I may even at some point find a way to organize all my computer files, delete, shuffle, file. But that’s for another day. Maybe a whole ’nother year

Nine hundred and eight. That’s a lot of stuff. If you saw the drawer in my nightstand (which you can, above) or my tiny “walk-in” closet you would think that perhaps I already live minimalistically (word?); things are neat and there’s space. My nightstand drawer only has about six things in it now. All necessary, if I may be so bold: 2 eye pillows, my Nook charger, a reading light (for late night nook-less reading), a few emery boards and book marks. It’s really pretty pitiful looking. But I’ve made my peace with the space.

Although…up rises another voice, the interior designer in me that say, “oh you need a cute little box, or maybe several to keep that stuff from slidin’ around.” (She’s from the south.)

In the process I did remove 43 items from the drawer – 29 were book marks. The book monster will appear more than once in this love story…

The objects on top of my nightstand have been there a long time. A candle from Jamaica, a photo of the Lare and I, a mala, a rock from Long Island with a small stuffed animal sitting atop it and a large quartz crystal along with my lamp. And lotion, there’s always lotion.

The photo stays, it’s almost 20 years old. I feel like the crystal is doing some good so it gets a pass, but I could offer the candle to someone who might appreciate its sweet honeysuckle scent. I could gift the little stuffed animal and I could put the rock in my garden. But do I need to or am I being ridiculous?

For now it all stays.

The purging part of this grand experiment comes later. I want to identify my collections, shine a light on where my tendency to hoard comes into play. I have to confess to inordinate number of pillows – 11 just in this room – an excess of potted plants and hand towels. So far.

I know where the desire to accumulate is coming from, but that’s a deep dark secret we all hold. I’m not alone. We’ll chat about that at a later time.

Total stuff count to date: 1,893

Let me remind you that I have not even counted a full room. According to the website Becoming Minimalist, the average American home has over 300,000 items.

This may take a while.

 

 

Naked Soap

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Now that I’ve counted and culled the bathrooms and linen closet it’s time to consider what’s left.

If I am truly using this exercise to be more  conscious of my purchases and choices then I need to spend some time contemplating what I’ve discovered.

As far as the above mentioned spaces are concerned I’ve identified three categories:

  1. Items used, that get used up – toilet paper, make-up, shampoo, etc.
  2. Decorative items – art work, decorative containers, superfluous things
  3. Items used on a continuous basis – towels, rugs, robes

I want to take my time to think about all three of these, but it’s that first one that is the most worrisome. Are there better choices? For me, for the environment? The answer is almost always yes.

Let’s look at some of these things up close and personal:

Nail polish remover. I would not need nail polish remover if I did not paint my toenails. I would not need nail polish either. And really probably not cotton balls. The only other reason I use cotton balls is to apply witch hazel on bug bites.

Soap. I have been transitioning from body wash and pump-style hand soap to bar soap recently. I have so many handmade soaps that I’ve been using for decoration that it seems silly to be buying plastic that will likely not get recycled when I can use something that will disintegrate with use over time. On a side note, I can also purchase this bar soap without any packaging which reduces waste even more.

A note to those concerned with bacteria and using the same bar of soap as someone else to wash your hands: in the nicest way possible, get over it. It’s soap, the more you use it, the cleaner your hands will get. We have created over-sensitive immune systems with all our anti-bacterial craziness. It has its place, but the general home bathroom isn’t it. Be brave. Unless you’re a doctor, then please sterilize your hands. And warm them up too, please.

Toothpaste. I’m not ready to make my own toothpaste.

First Aid. I feel justified in keeping the hydrogen peroxide, alcohol and witch hazel on hand. They last a long time.

Waste I know I will produce:

  • Toothbrushes – would electric be better? Are there compostable types?
  • Make-up containers – to be fair I use three items plus lip balm, I’m pretty low maintenance
  • Toilet paper – sorry, not sorry, gonna keep using this
  • Shampoo bottles – surely there is another option, refillable somewhere?
  • Razors – Larry does have an old fashioned one, I however do not
  • Lotion bottles – as with the shampoo, there may be great alternatives to uncover
  • Deodorant containers – crystal? Cream? Investigating

I can keep it to that and investigate other options. I can do better. In the investigation, ingredients and business practices will be taken into consideration. I love buying products from people I know. I have a face cream, lip balm and soap from various friends. I know there are good companies out there with sustainable practices and I intend to find them. I’ll be sure to share.

Speaking of friends, I have one who is a Zero Waste advocate. A serious one. She has built a whole non-profit business around it. I so admire the work she is doing and has done and she continues to inspire the choices I make. She is a big part of the inspiration behind this year long project. She has tons of suggestions on her site if you’re working on minimizing your stuff.

The second group of items is easier to work with. I don’t need any of them, they are there by preference. Some will stay, some will go. I’ll use Marie Kondo’s method of holding each item and asking myself if I love it. In the bathrooms, there are maybe a dozen of these items tops and most of them were purchased at vintage shops or given to me as gifts.

The third item in the list could use a little attention. For some reason, I have quite a few hand towels. I think I will replace those with washcloths in each bathroom, that just seems more practical. The hand towels can go to Good Will or better yet, a veterinary clinic.

The towels and rugs I use I’ve had a long time and feel pretty good about those choices. All cotton, soft and durable, when they wear out they’ll go the way of the hand towels.

All in all I feel pretty good about my progress. More investigation is called for into those items that are in containers that I keep purchasing. There are some great mindful companies out there using innovative packaging with exceptional products inside. I intend to find them and share.

Keeping the nail polish for now…It’s Florida, by feet rarely hibernate inside shoes. And I’m on the hunt for a biodegradable toothbrush option. I’m sure there’s one out there.

[Photo was taken at Lucky’s Market, my new obsession. Naked soap, miles of bulk foods and affordable organic veggies.]