YIf you ever helped someone move, then you have probably experienced judgment in its purest form. Nothing proves a friendship like carrying a box marked “foot spa and back closet” or “Scrapbook + Cat” down four flights of stairs and into an 18-foot U-Haul.
Practically speaking, when a foot spa is the headliner, I have to wonder what else is in the box. A backup spice rack? Platform shoes? A full set of essential oils? So help me god, if I am double-parking a small van to accommodate a shoebox full of unsorted cords and phantom cell phone chargers, I will lose it. There is no amount of pizza and beer that will make up for asking your friends to help you move things you don’t need or want or even know you have.
Moving day is notoriously stressful for most people, so it is probably not the best time to confront my friends about their packrat tendencies. But I can’t help myself. I must know: Is there a reason we’re moving six open boxes of cereal? Who needs two drying racks? How many IKEA bags can one person steal? I assemble these items into a lineup of sorts and suggest, loudly but not unkindly, that maybe my friend shouldn’t visit IKEA any more. Maybe she shouldn’t visit any stores at all.
This advice, like the rest of my help on moving day, is free. My friend can take it or leave it and since she seems to want to take a box marked “Christmas Kitchen and Halloween” to her new apartment, she will also accept my soft critique of consumerism and punctuation. I don’t feel bad about it, either. if she wanted to get the job done without answering questions, then she should have hired movers. They’d do the same work, but without the sass. That’s what you’re paying for with professionals: Manners.
There are few things at which I can claim expert status, but living minimally is one of them. Having been a digital nomad for the past three years, I have few possessions to my name. Perhaps more impressively, I wouldn’t have any trouble throwing out half of them right now. For me, no pair of riding boots or woolen sweater looks as good as lightness feels.
As Johann and I pack up his Helsinki apartment before our move to Venice, I seize on the opportunity to make cuts to the things I have accumulated. I donate clothes that don’t fit perfectly. I throw away toiletries I don’t use. I use old sheets and towels as packaging with the plan of throwing them out on the other side. When the purge is over – when the plastic bags are knotted and tossed into the dumpster or left at someone else’s doorstep – is when I feel most alive.
Johann and I differ in many ways, his latent hoarder tendencies being one of the most glaring. As we prepare for our move, he tries his best to lighten his load, but doesn’t make much progress. He throws out several pairs of sneakers, but still has twenty more left. He returns a lamp to his father, but keeps four others. He insists that he needshis entire collection of books and records. He pleads his case with passion, like his very life depends on owning a hardcover catalog of every special exhibition that visited the museum where he worked and several dozen 7-inches that I’ve never seen him play. This hill of vinyl and ink is the one he is willing to die on.
His inability to part with the things he loves is understandable. Most people have accumulated a small collection of things to which they have formed a borderline unhealthy attachment. Even I, a woman of two suitcases, am guilty of this. I collect international currencies and ticket stubs. Over the past few years, I have moved these stacks all over the world, refusing to ever place them in checked luggage even though their actual value is basically nothing. Insane? Maybe. But at least I have the good sense to collect something light.
I can’t say the same for Johann. Records and books are among the heaviest things to move and he owns hundreds of each. Technology has shown us a better way but he refuses to consider parting with any more than a handful here and there. He packs dozens upon dozens of grocery store boxes with a layer of art books until they are too heavy for me to lift and then fills the remainder with something light. I point this problem out, but Johann insists that he will carry these boxes personally, one by one, because their contents are important to him. In fact, these things are so important to him that he doesn’t want anyone else touching them. The records may bend and we will all suffer for it.
I smile and try not to act too smug. This is his first move as an adult. He has accumulated seven years of stuff and lives on the fifth floor without an elevator. He has no idea what he’s in for.
I understand that most people don’t want to live my extreme minimalist life. But, at the same time, a great many would like to reduce their personal inventory. They want to cut back on clutter or weed out dated and useless items. They want to make space in their closets. Their biggest problem is that they just don’t know which things to get rid of. They can’t decide which clothes to keep or which knick-knacks to toss. They keep things because they might need them later, even though what they need right now is more space. I know this because they tell me.
As I watch Johann top off his boxes of records and books with other possessions, I think I found an easy way to solve this problem. The answer is right there, in black and brown, written in Sharpie on cardboard. If the item is important, if it’s something he needs, if it’s something he loves, he writes it on the box. If it’s not, he doesn’t.
Records. Books. Espresso pot. Jewelry box.
These are things he needs or loves or has been strong-armed into packing on my behalf. No question, he should keep them.
Not listed? Old mittens. Salad spinner. Fourteen Adidas windbreakers.
These are second tier items. They’re not things he expects to need or cares enough to note. These, I believe, are the belongings he can leave behind. He doesn’t agree, but that’s not because the logic is flawed. It’s because he doesn’t actually want to part with anything.
For people who do want to downsize, I think my little life hack is pretty brilliant. You don’t need to be in the middle of a move to replicate the exercise. Just get an empty box, pick a room and start putting things in it. Close the box and then write down what you packed. If you can’t be bothered to mark it down or forget the item altogether, then you probably don’t need it or even want it. When you take it out, don’t put it back. Throw it in the trash.
Here’s to making 2019 the lightest year yet.
I am the Nova in my marriage. JoJo likes to hold onto things that really have no discernable use. We don’t fight about it or anything, but I find it really funny that she keeps a book a loved one gave her that she hasn’t read for 10 years and has no intention of ever reading. LOL
First of all, Nova and marriage don’t often land in the same sentence. Nice one. But yeah, no judgment on the people who hang onto things in their home. I think it’s natural to accumulate items within your four walls. But what you do with them when you have to move or need to make room for another person (child, partner, Airbnb room) is another story. That’s when I turn into a task master… because no, your ten-year old paper backs are not ALL important. Cut the collection in half and then keep less than that, you know?
For what it’s worth, I’m not surprised to learn that so many couples fall into this same dynamic. For you and me, I think there’s something subconsciously comforting about being with people who become attached to things and spaces and habits. It keeps us dreamers grounded.
You may very well have a point about us becoming attached to people with these tendencies. I do love people who are sentimental–even if I myself am not sentimental about things. Also, Allen and marriage were never in the same sentence until I turned 38…and here we are. LOL Who knew??
Gaaaah I can relate! Just as soon as I’m ready to judge Manfriend for the 70 billion Tshirts he owns, i look at my makeup collection…I wear makeup once a pay period these days…5 flights, I gasped at that…good good luck!!
OK, so confession: I have at least ten lipsticks. I saved them when I left New York three years ago and then moved them all over to Germany/Finland a year ago and now have packed them in a box so I can take them all back out after Italy. Do I use them? Occasionally. Would I die if I didn’t have them? No. But I just can’t bring myself to toss them because there are certain outfits and glasses that they work really well with. It is my one frivolity that I just can’t seem to give up!
I am sort of dreading the move. If it were up to me, I’d hire movers, but apparently that’s not really a thing here in Helsinki like it is in the States. even if it was, I guess a fifth floor walk-up would cost a pretty penny. We are counting on the help of friends… I will pass on your well wishes to them.
Good luck to you too! So exciting :)
Johann and I: Kindred spirits.
That being said, I commend you for your ability to weed out the unnecessary items in such a cut-throat manner! My biggest issue is that I humanize everything, give it a name and a personality, and then throwing it out or donating it really feels more like abandoning it than anything else…. It’s not great for minimalists.
I won’t lie, it was hard when I initially gave up all my stuff. But it had to be done and I was willing to do it because I expected to get more out of life in return. Turns out, I did… so now I have that experience and don’t care even half as much as I did before to give up my things. But that experience will not be true for everyone… I understand that. And so I compromise on the books and the records and many of the things I’d consider clutter. I don’t like it, but I accept it.
I think it is easier to give things away if you believe they are easily replaceable. I lived abroad for a year and my whole life fit into one rucksack and one suitcase, but now I am back in my home country I have expanded the collection by about five boxes – mostly clothes and books. I definitely have clothes that I don’t often wear, but I resist donating them because I really struggle to find clothes I like in the first place.
Yes – I agree. Actually, kind of hit on these points in some other comments… if you have the benefit of giving away your stuff at some point and being happy with the outcome, then I think you tend to be less attached in the future. …also, I think it’s natural to accumulate things when you’re living in one place. I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. But I think that when their is a major life change – a move, the birth of a child, someone moving in – it’s a good opportunity to re-examine your personal inventory and ditch the dead weight.
With the exception of my best friend/kind-of-partner Pup and my immediate family, I would never ask anyone to help me move. One, it’s a pain in the ass. Two, there are things I own that my friends don’t need to know about.
When it comes to books, I’m Team Johann. Ebooks are lighter and more convenient… and you don’t actually own them and Amazon/Barnes and Noble/whoever can take them away from you at any time. Sometimes they don’t even have to refund you the cost, depending on why they’re being removed. They can alter and edit the files without your consent. I don’t like the idea that someone can alter or confiscate my books at a moment’s notice. If someone can find the space for them, I will always advise them to keep physical books over ebooks.
If this is a matter of you guys don’t have the space, I suggest letting common sense be the guide. Controversial or previously banned books? Should probably be kept. General fiction books that don’t really stir the pot so much? Can probably be traded for digital.
I have my own hoarding tendencies (which I actually blogged about last month and I’ll link in the website box if anyone wants to check it out) and it’s not easy to get past it. I wish you and Johann luck in your move!
OK, so just about everyone disagrees with me on the books. I can see that. Lots of people pride themselves on personal libraries and how the collection offers a snapshot into the mind of the person who owns it. I totally get that. I guess it’s just that since I moved around so much, it wasn’t practical for me to keep physical books. I always had to let them go. I got a Kindle when I moved to Nigeria because I couldn’t pack books and wasn’t sure if I’d be able to find any I like once I was there. You make an interesting point about the ebooks never really belonging to the reader… and if I had a more permanent home, I’d probably buy more physical books. But I don’t and here we are. Long story short, I can see my boyfriend’s point of wanting to hold onto books, even if he rarely opens them. BUT, I did insist he get rid of easily replaced, mass produced paperbacks, like Game of Thrones.
If we’re going full analysis, I probably resent a lot of his stuff because I hate having a cluttered home. But up until now, it has been HIS home, not mine. So I haven’t been in a position to really ask for much in the way of change. But assuming we move ahead with our plans to officially move in together later this year, I expect compromises on both sides. I find it disheartening, I guess, when I see just how little he’s willing to give up as he packs. I take that as a sign of what’s to come. And so my nagging isn’t about books and records, but the bigger issue of cohabitation and meeting the other person in the middle. It’s my way of reminding and warning and borderline threatening that the next place is not just HIS. We’ll work it out, I’m sure. But I’m not sure which one of us will have to adjust more.
My digital nomad friend, there are things I love, others I use and those that invoke memories of people and good times — the story of a life. But I promise my nephews that I will weed out some things before I am old and gray.
My mother in law told us we could throw out her unneeded items after she died. We thought we’d clean out a closet that was bursting at the seams but that was not to be. Cheers. Enjoy your new place.
Well. To be clear, I also keep stuff that I love or need… I’ve just come to realise that I don’t need that much or have to hold the physical thing to keep the memories. That said, I don’t think my way is the “right” way, just A way. I’d never suggest people get rid of prized possessions or things they use daily. Actually, I don’t suggest anyone be forced into downsizing at all… I’m just offering one idea for people who claim they want to. I joke about my friend with the IKEA bags and my boyfriend’s record collection but I don’t really expect them to change a thing unless they want to.
Long story short – you do you. Enjoy the things you love :)