Walking the Rightsizing Walk – PART 3: Power Purge: 8 Items You Can Ditch

I am so embarrassed. All these columns and books I have written on downsizing and decluttering and my oh my, the mess I am in. Moving is the ultimate truth test. As I pack up the house my husband, DC, and I have lived in for eight years, box towers line the halls, packed and stacked like big-city skylines. Each room coughs up its contents like a kid with consumption. I fear I may never see a clear counter again.

I don’t know about you, but when I feel out of control — and believe me this is one of those times — I cope by tackling tasks I can control, like vigorously ironing tea towels. But that doesn’t get you too far, especially when you have a whole house to pack and move.

Don’t let me or anyone else kid you: Moving is a very bad time.

Actual conversation:

DC: “Well, you’re cranky.”

Me: “Look, I’m miserable and I intend to make everyone around me miserable.”

DC: “It’s working.”

The more I sorted, the more it seemed I needed to sort. I cleared several closets, and still had miles to go. The kitchen, the garage, the pantry, the laundry room, each brought its own avalanche of challenges. I forged on, miserably. Finally — six heaping-full trash cans, many trips to Goodwill, dozens of packed boxes, eight broken fingernails, and one bottle of Advil later — I got through.

Here’s a miniscule sampling from my five-page itemized donation list: 283 books (we’ll discuss), one four-drawer metal file cabinet (purged of all files, thank you), a standing desk (well-intentioned but never happened), three alarm clocks (we use cell phones), two dog collars, 11 neckties, four board games, six soup mugs, assorted yard tools, casserole dishes, bread boards, piles of clothes, lacrosse sticks (in what dream?), yesterday’s throw pillows, binoculars, a bag of costume jewelry, two hurricane lamps, two shot glasses (I may regret), and so on.

Although the stacks of evidence would suggest I need to take more of my own decluttering advice, as I slogged through my stuff, grumbling, I made some really tough cuts. I wrangled all the irrational reasons you and I cling (but it was expensive, but it’s still useful, but I might need it someday, but it reminds me of fill in the blank, but it was mom’s, etc.), and came to terms with these eight items you can get rid of for sure:

1.     Books. Don’t hyperventilate. I, too, love books. But if you think of books as glorified magazines, which are really glorified newspapers, which we don’t have any trouble throwing out, giving them up becomes easier. Still, my husband and have books in every room, plus a walk-in closet we turned into a library. As in many homes, books come in, but they don’t go out. They breed. If the past is the predictor, I am not likely to reread these books. I made the first cut. I went through and pulled only the books I wanted to keep. (Note, If you choose what to keep rather than what to let go of, you will purge more.) DC took a second pass and pulled out what he wanted. Together we culled the herd by more than half. I then took 283 books to my public library, which has a used bookstore that sells donated books to benefit the library. Win win.

2.     Snapshots. Oof! Trust me on this. Once you scan your photos — and you will scan your photos, right? — you can toss prints. Snapshots from the pre-digital age are far more vulnerable than scanned images. One fire, flood or hurricane and poof! They’re toast. Once scanned, you can store photos on your laptop for easy retrieval, send thumb drives full of photos to family members, store a copy in your safe deposit box (recommended though I haven’t done that) and know that your photos are also in the cloud. And you can get rid of that box.

3.     Old Tech. If you have newer devices, old phones, laptops, scanners, and fax machines can go. If your device has content you don’t want shared, take it to a computer store to recycle. I took my old laptop to Best Buy, where techs backed up the contents on an external hard drive and disposed of the computer.

4.     Duplicates. I had two, round glass serving platters. One was plain, one had dividers like a relish tray. I got rid of the second. The first one would do the same job. Plus, I never have been good at staying in the lines. When I caught DC hanging onto something we had more of, I kindly said, “Noah, we don’t need two of everything anymore.”

5.     Underwear that rubs. You know those underwear in your drawer that you push aside to get to the ones you like? You can get rid of those. Same with non-favorite t-shirts and gym clothes.

6.     Former lives. Is the corporate life in your rearview mirror? Have you hung up the tennis racquet for good? If you have clothes that belonged to a past life (my riding breeches), or worse, your kids’ past lives, ditch them.

7.     One-trick wonders. Get rid of gadgets that hog space and do a job another tool you have does. We got rid of a never-used mandoline slicer because I have a good knife. Why have a popcorn popper in the age of microwave popcorn?

8.     Your mother’s wedding dress. Like many devoted daughters, I had my mother’s wedding dress under my bed. You know all the sentimental reasons why. But let’s analyze this. I never wanted to wear this dress when I got married. My daughters both wanted pretty new wedding gowns when they got married. I am not the type to turn a wedding gown into a christening dress or a tree skirt, but you go ahead. Meanwhile, I have lots of photos documenting mom in her beautiful dress on her wedding day, when the gown looked a lot better. So, what was this relic doing under my bed? Gathering dust. Yellow and brittle, it wasn’t even fit for a theater’s costume department. I cut a swatch, tucked it into mom’s wedding album, and tossed the dress.

CAPTION: Art courtesy of Kelly Kamowski.