Which brings up another aspect of my "stuff theory" - why we keep stuff.
1) I might use/fix it someday
You know what they are. Objects we have bought or were given that we MIGHT use someday. The gingerbread mold, label maker, shoe polish that doesn't match any shoe that you currently own.There are two questions you can ask yourself when you come across one of these: "would this be of better use to someone else" (in which case, see the next category of stuff) or "How long is this worth storing before I use it?"
Set an expiration date, a natural one (shoe polish does expire eventually) or a personal one, like "I've been meaning to make gingerbread houses for eight years, so if I don't do it in the next two years I'm getting rid of this thing."
This can help you avoid obtaining these things in the first place by honestly asking yourself if you will use them. For example, don't buy knitting needles because you intend to learn how to knit, even if they are free.
Fixing things: the shirt missing a button, the bike with only half a front break, the china plate that broke cleanly into three pieces and only needs a little super glue. It's good to fix things. It's not good to have broken things laying around. Make a list of everything that needs a little duct tape, and then pick a week to get it all done. Who knows, maybe when you have the object in front of you, you might decide it's not worth three hours of your time after all and toss it.
2) I might find someone who needs it
They aren't going to find it in your house. Take this kind of stuff - baby clothes, extra hammer - to a place where the people who can use them and need them will look for them: yard sales and thrift stores. Pick a date to get rid of the stuff, pick a place in your garage or attic to compile the stuff as you find it, and ask your friends if they need anything you're getting rid of leading up to the day of cleansing.
3) Sentimental reasons
This category, by nature, is the most resilient to minimalist intentions, and the hardest to deal with.
For my 14th birthday, someone gave me a pamper kit. It looked like a paint can, and it was filled with cuticle cream, exfoliation scrub, lotions... pretty much anything a girl needed for a complete mani, pedi, or facial. Over the years, the products were used one by one, and replaced with Polaroid pictures, key chains, perfume samples...a catch-all for my memories and body products.
With every move (and there have been half a dozen in the last four years alone) that pail has survived all the cleaning, condensing, and detachment that goes naturally with packing all of one's possessions. Why? Because when I open that lid I smell high school. I smell the Medusa roller coaster at Marine World, my friend Dave's surprise 16th birthday party, and the hot dishes as I pull them out of the industrial dishwasher at my Summer job. Camping, homework, heartbreak, and the search for self are in that pail.
Nothing else can make that smell: a blend of vanilla, dirty hair scrunchies, apricot, pencil shavings, peppermint and silver. I know I have no logical need for it, but throwing it away would feel like throwing away myself.
The only thing to do in sentimental cases is to condense and store. For example, I use or toss the body products, and put all the little sentimental tokens together and keep the bucket in a place where it is out of the way, but where I can get to it.
4) I don't know it's there
This brings us back to the definition of "stuff" laid out in the first part of this blog: things that are useless because they are lost.
This is why it's important to address all the closets, boxes, cupboards, junk drawers, and any space that collects stuff. Don't be daunted by the time it will take to turn your stuff back into useful things again. You will feel better when you can walk past that door and know what's behind it.
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