Minimalish.

Five weeks. Five weeks of constant purging. Five agonizing weeks overflowing with stuff and memories and tears. We even hired professional help for a few hours to terrify us into submission. (Idk, is that anti-minimalist? Are there rules to this thing? Was I supposed to throw a purging party or something?) Plus my friend Tricia came in like a wrecking ball and I’m still trying to figure out what she threw away what I wasn’t looking. She is certain I hate her for it, but I’m actually grateful. I haven’t been able to identify a missing item yet…although most of our stuff is in a pod somewhere between here and San Francisco.

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Regardless, here I am, after five weeks of purging, living out of a suitcase and a few boxes at my parent’s house (our temporary home while Scott heads north to do the dirty work of demo, framing, and y’know – adding walls – to The Tiny.) And dudes, the urge to purge is creeping back as my parents try to absorb two people (AND THREE DOGS!) back into my childhood home. (Reminder, this house was home to my nuclear family of four growing up. FUCKING STUFF.)

Moral of the story – because Scott has now come outside and mocked me for writing about my abundance of stuff instead of actually dealing with it – we had to get a storage unit and a uhaul to actually get the stuff we thought we’d need in transition out of the big house in time. Like, down to the minute. Like, we’re blasting our a #curbalert and scheduling large item pickups, and calling friends to pick up the items they claimed, and finally, Scott and I agree to *fuck it all* and load it into a uhaul van and “figure it out” when we got to my folks.

A necessary decision, but, fuck, the only thing we figured out is that we won’t even be able to fit the things we brought as the absolute minimum we thought we needed (plus a few brand new kid item donations that no one would take except St. Vincent DePaul, who couldn’t pick up until a month out. *Shakes fist at own bad planning.*) I’ve already starting tossing another 1/2 of my clothes in trash bags, knowing there’s another duffel-full awaiting me on the other end. (Capsule wardrobe my ass.)

All that to say, you can never get rid of too much. If you overdo it, at least someone less fortunate benefits and you’ll likely be able to reacquire the item in the future. (Also see: Abundance/KonMari)

Four years ago I made this post for BuzzFeed about Maximizing Your Life By Minimizing. It was a dream then. An aspirational post for myself as much as anyone else. Now, I’m taking my own well-researched advice, something I should have done years ago. Thanks, past-self, for writing something oddly useful while still compulsively purchasing everything you came into eye contact with. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Maybe one day I’ll become minimalish with words, too. #verboseAF