I have read several books on minimalism and the liberating fact of “less is more.” My curiosity began with Maria Kondo and her Netflix series based on her book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. You must know that, as a Romanian descendant, there are some lingering Gypsy traits that are hard to shake. Though I settled in one place, I have been a pack rat all my life. My closet as a child was loaded with things that I squirreled away for some indeterminate time in the future. I may need that someday.
These habits are hard to shake, and as a young adult and father, that closet became a basement. I was reluctant to throw anything away, in case I might need it later. This included clothing, music, and mementos from past dates with Joan. I can hear some of you going, “Aww, that’s so sweet.” But when I tell you that it is ticket stubs, cocktail napkins, champagne corks, and everything but a lock of her hair, it gets a little pathetic. My college textbooks moved with me from house to house, along with some of my notes and papers.
Anything that I ever received as a gift was kept… forever. You can see where this is going, right? George Carlin used to have a bit about how much “stuff” we have, and when you fill up your house, you need to move to a bigger house, in order to hold more stuff. Eventually, you break down and get a storage unit and pay rent for your stuff. Aware of that bit and the wisdom therein, I drew a solid line there. I will never get a storage unit to hold my stuff.
In 2010, we had a house fire, and the fire marshal told me that we were minutes away from a total loss. Part of the experience of that house fire is that a fire restoration company comes in, packs up all your stuff, and hauls it away to be cleaned and stored while the house is being repaired. Everything must go.
There is something surreal about going through your home after a fire and seeing the remains of things that I thought were so important. We were a “no shoes” house, yet the firefighters had tracked soot onto the carpet and poured hundreds of gallons of water onto the fire in their successful attempt to douse the blaze. The house was trashed, the fire was extinguished, and the entire family was unharmed. It put things into perspective and flipped a switch in my brain, showing me what was truly most valuable. All the material things we have are just stuff. It’s not at all important.
The restoration company has boxes they use to pack every item in the house and the basement. They don’t pack like you, and I would pack as they are dispassionate about everything. For example, last year I finally got to the last of these boxes and peered inside to find old magazines, game pieces, and other detritus. I instantly decided to toss the entire box.
Something stirred in me, telling me to go through the detritus and then throw it away. Within minutes, I was assured that I had done the right thing when mixed in with everything else was my deceased mother-in-law’s wedding ring. This truly is a priceless heirloom, and it almost got thrown away.
Personally, after the fire, I went through my closet and donated at least a third of all my clothes. This included suits, dress shirts, sweaters, sport coats, ties, the works. I felt good knowing that someone might get a job offer after an interview wearing my former dress clothes. I felt lighter in some ways; liberated.
I had a lot of clothes, most of which I would never wear or wear only once per season. Even after the purge, my closet grew, and changing out the seasonal clothes became more of a chore. I heard the words of Marie Kondo in my ear, “Does this garment spark joy?” I had to admit that fewer and fewer things I had in my closet really sparked joy, so I would give more away. There is still more work to do; however, I would say that I have less than half the clothes I had pre-fire.
Now I reverse the hangers in the closet for shirts and pants. If I wear them during the season, I turn the hanger around when I put them back. If at the end of the season that hanger is still reversed, it’s gotta go.
Last year, while paring my clothes, I found a couple of pairs of pants that I must have bought when I was at maximum density years ago. They definitely did not spark joy. In fact, they did the opposite and made me sad because I knew they were bigger than my other pants. For whatever reason, I kept a couple of pairs and gave the rest away.
During the holidays and when my kids were home, I didn’t say no to much of the food available. Coming home from London and Paris, my pants must have shrunk. This must have something to do with the metric system and time zone changes. I found my “fat” pants and have been wearing them while I figure out what happened to the rest of my clothes.
I realized that my weight may be the source of the problem, and a week ago started going back on my Paleo diet. I have had great success with it before.
I am painfully aware that having fewer pounds on my body will be to my advantage when I walk 500 miles across Spain, so I am motivated now. I will lose 12 pounds before I board the airplane.
After one week of this diet, continuing my daily walking (even in the sub-zero temps.), avoiding all sweets and reducing the hours that I consume any food, the results were in, and I have to say I was shocked. After all that work, the scale tipped a half pound… heavier! I was crushed. I’m not 35 anymore, and I can’t lose weight just by thinking about it. This is going to be a challenge, but I have never backed down from one and will prevail.
I will keep you posted on my progress and give you periodic updates. But, in the meantime, I am glad that I didn’t give away all of my fat pants.