I remember reading a line in “The Autobiography of a Yogi” years ago. The less you have, the less you have to worry about. It’s true. A feng shui-practicing buddy of mine tells me that if I don’t absolutely love it, look at it, use, or wear it, I should get rid of it. This might be a good rule of thumb for our relationships too.
Life does get more complicated with more stuff. I know there will come a day when I will want only a futon, a nice-smelling candle, and my clothes. Maybe, or perhaps I will move to Lupin Lodge and become a nudist.
I look around my compact living space and life does seem simpler. But I also have a ten-by-ten storage space that is filled to near capacity with boxes that haven’t been opened in a few years. I try not to count that and my eventual goal is to pare down until I am keeping only the things I do love.
A few years back, I had two smaller and relatively inaccessible storage units that were supposed to be temporary, but ended up being packed for three years and costing me thousands of dollars in storage fees. So one day, I decided to have them moved, which cost me a fortune, into a ten-by-ten storage unit that really cost me, where I was living about ninety miles away, so that I could finally go through everything. It was like Christmas, since I had forgotten most of what was in there.
I diligently went through all of the boxes, donating the things that I didn’t want or need or wear anymore, until I could fit everything (that I could still fit into) into a five-by-ten unit comfortably. The following year I moved back to my original location and had to haul it all back with me, the extras going back into the ten-by-ten unit that I now rent because I downsized my living space and therefore had more things to store. ARGGH!
Does this sound familiar at all? Has anyone else become fond of big plastic storage boxes that fit under the bed, that stick out enough so that you stub your toes on them every night when going to bed? When I was growing up, I don’t remember big stores that were devoted to selling things that stored stuff. What has happened to us?
I think it’s the choice of what to keep (because someday we might need or use it) and what to get rid of or donate. Choices, as you know, are a very serious thing.
I’m like that with my clothes. I keep thinking that I might wear that sweatshirt while I’m replanting my philodendron. I might wear shorts again in the Bahamas when my thighs get thinner (right). I might wear that bikini in Cozumel (not). There’s always the workout shirt and my weekend-without-a-date clothes (and that collection is growing). And what about if my mood changes? And this happens a lot. What if I feel like being a grunge? What if I have to go back into the workforce and look professional again? (Hell, no!)
So I have a rule that I am going to implement, someday, when I get the courage and get rid of my plants and tickets to warm, exotic places. I will ask myself a question.
Would I wear this on a hot first date? I should always be prepared, right? What if HE happens to be driving down the street and I’m walking to the gym in an ugly tee-shirt? I bought multiple pairs of Victoria Secret black yoga pants because they are so comfortable, especially when I’m bloated, but I can still feel sexy because of the tag, and the fact that I can breathe is good, too.
And, speaking of bloating, one of my old boyfriends said, “You couldn’t get a fart in that closet,” referring to my overabundance of clothes. I’ve also read that you should always have room for another person if you really want a relationship. He had better be very thin and a nudist and we can move to Lupin Lodge together!
One of my suitors was kind enough to point out that none of the doors in my place closed all the way because of things hanging on the backs of them. I sometimes resort to hanging clothes in the door jambs. Now that I live in a studio and only have one usable door jamb which leads to my teeny bathroom, it is only used for drying my clothes and in order to use the toilet, I (or anyone who is brave enough to date me) have to duck, dodge, and do the limbo in order to pee. Maybe it is a good thing that I live alone.
I have been guilty of buying things because of the fantasy behind them. Who will be with me when I am wearing this new top or pair of shoes? Will I be having lunch, coffee, getting on a plane, or one of those other cool things that all of the magazines show girls doing in the stuff I just bought? Shopping has tended to be more than therapeutic for me. It is fantasy. It is relaxing. It’s Zen.
So if it’s really Zen, maybe I’ll buy another Buddha. Like I need another one of those, according to my past boyfriends.
My old Barbies are in storage and would be worth way more now if I took them out and sold them. I’m sure that critters have crawled into the boxes, waiting to spring out for my long-delayed spring (or more like decades of springs) cleaning.
And what about paper stuff? Cards, letters, bills, photos (when they weren’t digital), tax records, copies of emails, receipts (from all of the stuff I buy and don’t need)? I am convinced that papers are octo-fertile.
I probably move a lot because I do get the urge to purge every so often and if I have to move it or store it, I now think twice about it. I’m still at the stage of like, not love. If I like it, I keep it.
Storage is big business because it is our history. It is family, memories, and old relationships. It’s what happens when we don’t want to make the choice of what to do with all of that stuff. It’s who we are and the attachment to what we don’t want to let go of, but it does clutter our lives and spirits and gives us another thing to worry about.
But without an empty space, how can we fill it with something (or someone) new?
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Robyn Justo is a freelance writer who is experienced, but by no means an expert, on the frustrations, triumphs, and general hysteria of single life. “The Expiration Date” addresses the lighter side of living, dating, and just getting through the day. The names have been changed to protect the innocent (and the guilty). Please feel free to contact her directly at: robynjusto@aol.com.
