Can Fantasy Become Reality

Of late, I have gotten off track and have been spewing a great deal about our country's obsession with consumerism.  Back to some minimalism.

Lately my job has been taking me into some interesting homes filled with unusual and treasured items.  I stand back and witness the struggle people have with releasing the things that have been part of familiar surroundings.  It has forced me, over and over, to take stock of my own life and the tangible belongings that are part of it.

The title of this post deals with a fantasy.  Specifically, the one I have been having.  No, no...it has nothing to do with blondes or foreign beaches.  Actually, now that I think of it......  Aaaanyway, the fantasy I'm talking about involves the nearly complete release of all items cluttering up my life.  I imagine myself in a small, airy, modern, urban flat maybe 450 square feet or so.  I have only the necessities.  It is a comfortable little place and with me are a few carefully chosen items around that make me happy.  I have my laptop, a few books and perhaps a compact stereo that is easily hooked into my iPod or Pandora, my knife kit, cookbooks and some good pots and pans.  The rest are incidentals and not much more.  Most of life will revolve around experiences and not things.

As I glance around at my current life, one thing stares me in the face.  For many years I collected and restored antique clocks and timepieces.  Over time, I have amassed a significant collection. This isn't a hoarder type collection of anything and everything that has to do with clocks but rather, in my humble opinion, a nice aggregation of styles and types.  I took the time to refine the collection so that I had no duplicates and most of the items were genuine, unadulterated, antique originals.  They number nearly thirty in all and some are quite large and imposing.  Although all the clocks are scattered throughout the house, they still take up a lot of room.  There is no earthly way they could all be part of the minimalist fantasy.

I've been grappling all week with how many I should sell to scale back.  To me they're all attractive and many have long, interesting stories behind them, but when I moved to a smaller home some years ago, I was unable to set up my hobby and repair shop.  My new digs were simply too small and I now had a family that required my attention.  My equipment is now long gone and maintaining the collection mechanically is now much more difficult.  Now I understand the decisions that people must make after they've called on me to clear things out for them.  By picking up the phone, they have made a commitment to themselves to release material things.  Sometimes the decision is made for them due to monetary issues, other times it is simply a matter making life less weighty.  Folks in the latter category have a tougher time making decisions for obvious reasons, but when they do, I admire them for it.

I have reasons to keep them all, but I won't.  Which ones stay and which ones go?  I decided that the collection should be reduced by at least two thirds.  There's no particular reason for the mathematics here, just a desire to significantly cut back.  My decision is that I will pare back to ten or less, most of which will be smaller items that can fit together on a shelf or niche somewhere.  Because I see them every day, it is hard not to flip-flop on which to keep.  The solution was to somehow make my decisions final.  I grabbed a bunch of adhesive labels and told myself that once a decision was made to sell an item, it was to be marked with a label that would not be removed.  Of course I could change my mind, but a needed something symbolic that would keep me in line.  The labels would be fine.  I set to work.

As I stood in front of each clock, running through my history with it, it is easy to see how letting go can be hard.  Things have associations....some warmer or more personal than others.  When we make a conscious decision to let something go, we worry that we might lose or forget the association...the story that brought it to us in the first place.  Life is full of stories.  There will be plenty in the future that might revolve around other objects.  It doesn't mean I have to own them.

Long ago I was told that we never truly "own" old or historic items like antique clocks, we simply pay for the right to take care of them, to have them in our presence, to add to their collective history...then at some point, we pass them on to the next set of caretakers who will hopefully receive satisfaction and joy from them and preserve them until the next "owner" comes along.

It's time.  I've used twenty one labels.

It has been an honor to have cared for you and preserved your history.  I've received joy from your presence.  It is time for you to do the same for your next owner.

Manufactured Collectibility

It's the expression I use when I refer to anything manufactured and marketed with the implication that someday it will worth more than it was purchased for.

We've seen the ads, read the catch phrases and stared with dilated pupils at Certificates of Authenticity.

For more than a decade, I have fielded calls from excited prospects bubbling over about mom's cache of collector plates and dad's precious collection of Franklin Mint presidential medals plated in genuine 24 karat gold.  I'm obligated as a professional to tell them the truth.  The truth they don't want to hear about how they've fallen prey to slick marketing techniques and that their ship is not about to come in.

The scene replays itself over and over with minor changes in detail....  "Hello...my aunt passed away last month and she left me a complete set of pewter collector spoons she slowly purchased over 9 years.  Each month a new one was released and she purchased it so she could have the complete set.  They aren't made anymore and she has them all.  Each one is themed after a different movie star and many of those stars are now dead so the ones with dead stars on them must be worth more.  She kept the boxes and certificates with them.  I think each one was $39.95 when it was released and she has 108 of them with the little cabinet that holds them all.  I have no need for them and quite honestly my car has been acting up and I'd like to get a nice new car.  What do you think I can get for them?"

I take a deep breath and pull the standard response from my mental filing cabinet.  I start with the normal apology..."I'm sorry, but they really aren't worth very much.  A set like that might bring $40-60 at auction."

I wait.  Silence on the other end.  It's coming...I know it is.................................."For the whole SET?"

"Yes, for the whole set."

"But she paid thousands for them and she has them all.  None are missing.  I would consider taking half of what she paid since I really need the money."

My quick mental calculation indicates that this person is looking to net $2,000 for a set worth $60.

I wait a moment...the anger is coming next.  I try to explain... "I know she paid a lot for it, but there are thousands of collector spoon sets out there.  Everyone knows someone that has one.  Unfortunately, nobody is seeking them out and they aren't rare.  The company that sold them to her hooked her by saying they might be collectible.  They really aren't.  You won't get much for them."

"Sixty dollars......for the whole collection?!!  That's ridiculous.  That's probably what each one is worth now.  Are you marketing to the right people?  The real collectors must not be coming to your auctions.

The attempt at insulting me fails.  This person called me, not the other way around.  "I'm sorry, but I can't control demand for these sorts of things.  I'd love to get you two grand, but it won't happen...."  I close with another gratuitous apology and wonder how many additional phone calls will be made to consignment shops, jewelry stores and pawn shops before reality sets in.  It often feels like my job is to dash people's dreams.  Nobody wants to admit they were fooled.

Actually, I'm used to these exchanges it but it doesn't change the fact that such a large percentage of our population gets sucked into statements like "...bound to be an heirloom collectible...these are made in limited numbers so get yours today...comes with its own printed certificate and display box....a strict limit of three per buyer since we will break the mold after this production run...collect them all....this is an exclusive offering to collectors only, so call now....each one is clad in real sterling silver."

If I can save one person from the same fate as my typical imaginary caller, my time at the keyboard will be worth it.

Before I break it down, I'll offer a disclaimer.  There ARE some things that are manufactured to be collectible that actually are worth something.  Usually not a boatload, but something.  Some examples include coin sets from the US Mint (not from the Federal National Government Collectors Mint or the Franklin Mint....just the US Mint.  The one that makes our money.)  Some older Hummels have value (although those have come down, but Hummels date back to the '30's) and a few other things, but 99% of "collectibles" manufactured as such are not worth the material they are made of.

If you think about it, most of the valuable collectibles WEREN'T manufactured with that in mind.  Take the earliest Barbies.  Nobody knew in the 50's that Barbie would be so popular that she would still be around a half century later.  The first ones were just like any other new doll that comes onto the market.  It is only the fact that she became so popular that makes the earliest Barbies worth anything.  Of course the manufacturer capitalized on this by offering "collectible" Barbies decades later.  These were never intended to be played with, but rather something to accumulate numbers of for collectible value.  Most aren't worth more than a few dollars and aren't as rare as most people think they are.  Because the early Barbies were actually played with, few survived in good condition.  This is part of what makes them so rare and valuable.

Lets look at it from a marketer's point of view.  I have this great idea for a collectible.....Limited edition lighters with famous race car drivers embossed on them.  To sell them, I have to manufacture them first.  This takes a lot of money in designing, mock-up, tooling, image licensing and final manufacture plus advertising.  For something to be rare, there can't be an awful lot of them floating around, right?  But how can I make any money if I only sell a few before ceremoniously smashing the molds with a sledge hammer.  The answer is, I have to sell a lot of them!  To get around low numbers needed for true rarity, I use terms like "limited edition."  Can a run of 10,000,000 be a limited edition?  Of course it can.  Do I have to number each one with its exact number?  No.  I can put the number 3,205 on twenty of them if I want (as long as I distribute them widely.)  How can I imply desirability?  By including a Certificate of Authenticity.  This implies that people try to counterfeit these items, so be sure you're getting a real one and not some cheap fake.  I can paint a bunch of rocks gold and include a Certificate of Authenticity with each one stating that each is an original creation by me, clad in lustrous gold.  I'll have my sister sign the certificate and include a lovely collector box.  Do you see where I'm going with this?  Does any of it make my rocks valuable?  It's hype.

When I see the commercials on TV and the presentations for this crap on QVC, I want to hack.  I know somewhere there's a middle aged aunt or someone's father on a fixed income thinking "If I collect these and give them to my kids, they'll have something worth money down the road."  What they'll have is a bunch of metal discs stamped with someone's face on them.  Rest assured there will be thousands of other people with those worthless discs that cost them bunch of money as well.  Don't fall into the trap.

The next time you're sitting in front of the tube with a bag of chips and a commercial for gold plated commemorative stamps comes on and you see suited men removing a pile of them from a vault while telling you how valuable they will likely be, watch for the small print on the bottom of the screen and remember that if you stored your loose change in a vault, it wouldn't make it worth more than face value unless you could convince someone that it was SPECIAL change.

Spread the word.

We've got a million of 'em.  Now all we have to do is figure out how to get suckers....I mean collectors, to buy them.

Invented Days of (shopping) Importance

Well....it's over.  In looking back, here's my big observation.

Grandparents Day,  Father's Day, Black Friday and now Cyber Monday.  (Cue commercials for After-Christmas sales and New Years Doorbusters.)  There seems to be no limit to the invention of special days designed to coax us into spending money.  Although Father's Day and even Grandparent's Day are officially celebrated as days to recognize the loving members of our families, there's little doubt that those particular days are well supported and promoted by the retail community as days we need to show our love by purchasing crap.

If you love your father, you'll get him an iPod.  That's how we show our love, right?

Although, we knew the designation of Black Friday as the day when retailers finally turned a profit for the year (being in the "black") it had never taken on the significance that it currently has.  I used to work in retail and Black Friday was never the busiest shopping day from a revenue standpoint.  The final panicked days before Christmas blew Black Friday away when it came to how much was in the till.  It's different now.

People camp out in the freezing cold for a chance to snatch a fleeting bargain at 3AM.  If there was ever a carrot dangled in the faces of consumers, it is the prospect of saving $100 on a laptop if you come show your allegiance to consumerism by dragging yourself out of bed in the middle of the night and joining the worship at the local Best Buy Megachurch parking lot.  Bring your own Dunkin Donuts hot coffee.

As if being led around by our noses with all of this Black Friday bullshit wasn't enough, now there is a new shopping event.  Cyber Monday.  The name of the event itself brings thoughts of illicit activity like cyber-sex and cyber-crime.  Cyber Monday is the answer to those who don't buy into the middle-of-the-night shopping stampedes.  Now you don't even have to put your clothes on.  Just sit in front of the computer, scratch yourself and spend, spend, spend.  There's apparently no end to this nonsense.  I can only imagine what the next invented shopping day will be.  Update...there IS a new event!  Apparently "Free Shipping Thursday" has garnered enough attention to become an event all its own.  I'm anxiously awaiting the announcement of a long lost holiday of giving that is being resurrected from the folkways of some clandestine culture.  My guess is that it will fall some time between Memorial Day and Independence Day in order to even out the annual cash flow.  Mark my words.....

Not to be a curmudgeon, I'm for businesses being successful.  Heck I have my own business so I completely understand.  It's too much though.  Too much useless junk that gets tossed in a closet or re-gifted.  Too much emphasis on having, buying, upgrading.  What little happiness we get from the newly purchased usually fades before the packaging is out the door.

Last year I posted a note on Facebook about Black Friday.  People were getting killed in stampedes...they were dying under the feet of people who simply had to get the best deals.  That's the sort of thing that happens when people are trying to get out of a burning building that doesn't have enough exits, not in front of a Wal Mart that has toaster ovens on sale.  How did we get to the top of the food chain again?

The whole thing is exacerbated by the media who show video clips of women in stores, hair askew, breathing heavily exclaiming how much they "love the rush", "the pursuit of the bargain."  In the background, whizzing past are shoppers with carts stacked high with consumer electronics.  The scene is reminiscent of natural disaster stories where residents are looting...getting stuff for free.  I can't help but think the similarities are intentional.  During Black Friday, things are...well... practically free.....so get out there and loot.  All of it has become a well orchestrated herding of people and their credit cards to the check out aisle.

Are you freaking kidding me?  Who chooses this over sleeping in a warm bed?

Decoration Proliferation

Everyone has it.  The older you are, the larger the growth will be.  It festers and multiplies in the dark recesses of our lives until it becomes overwhelming....

It's the great Creeping Christmas Crap disease. 

No matter which late-in-the-year holiday you celebrate, there's bound to be a proliferation somewhere in your home.  Christmas is the worst though.

Here's how it happens...silently, stealthily.....

At some point in your life you decided it was time to get some Christmas decorations.  Maybe you got married or rented your first apartment.  Perhaps your parents gave you a few of their old decorations but most likely you went to a store and bought some that suited you and you merrily decorated your abode.

After the holiday you packed the decorations up and stored them...in the attic, basement or closet where they'd be safe until next year.  For the remaining 11 months, life went on and you forgot about the sleigh bells and glass balls in the attic.  Before you knew it, it was November and even before the turkey went into the oven, the stores were already loaded with sale priced Christmas decor.  This year there were cool bubble and LED lights and interesting new balls for the tree.  You couldn't avoid it, so you perused and picked up a few more tchotchkes for your Christmas decorating.

In December, Mom gave you a Hummel ornament and if you decided to have kids right off the bat, they made their own ornaments out of construction paper, popcorn, glitter and crayons.   This year your tree was loaded with the new stuff and the original items you had from the attic, but you managed to squeeze most of it on the little tree.  What didn't fit, you hung around the house.

Fast forward to 5 years later.... In the attic are several years worth of new decoration purchases.  You like to change the theme of the tree when you can, but you might want to go back and mix in a few of the older ornaments.  You can't get rid of any of it because each ornament brings back memories of Christmas past, but each year you add to the collection.  Your kids are still young and you still have all their handmade adornments.  Your little tree didn't have enough branches, so you purchased a bigger one, but it already had the lights attached so you didn't need the ones you had.

After a few more years, not all the Christmas boxes came down from the attic.  There isn't enough room for it all, so you had to leave some of it up there, yet each year you accumulate more via after-holiday sales or when you purchased ornaments from different places you visited.

For many in middle age or later, the Christmas "growth" has reached mammoth proportions in the attic.  One recent year, while visiting family I witnessed dozens of boxes, wreaths and miscellaneous jingling bags emerging from the dark void above the garage.  This was the beginning of the process.  A new step was involved...deciding which of the items would be used.  Whatever didn't make the cut was hoisted back up the narrow attic steps to spend another year baking up in the rafters.  There was so much stuff that every empty inch of visible counter space, shelving or other flat surface contained something that glittered or resembled a Poinsettia.  The process of placing it all took at least an entire day, if not more.  Christmas decorating had become a job unto itself.

Nearly every home I visit has a holiday accumulation.  Some are gargantuan.  In some cases 30, 40 or even 50 boxes in the attic contain Christmas items.  Lower boxes are crushed and practically fossilized under the weight of accumulation above them.  Among it all are multiple trees and stands, old tangled strings of lights and dry rotted boxes of ornaments.  Decades old garland disintegrates when touched and plastic tree decorations crumble from years of searing summer attic heat.

The first thing I hear is "Can you sell all that old Christmas stuff for us?"

Nope.  Everyone has more than they need.  They don't want yours too.

Some homes give all holidays equal treatment, so the Christmas accumulation is multiplied many times to include Halloween, Easter, Valentines Day and perhaps Groundhog Day.

Certainly, holiday items that are old enough to be antiques are prized, especially if they survive 50 years of storage, but 99.9% of it is absolutely unsaleable.

Best course?  Do a decoration purge.  Pull it all down, get rid of whatever has not survived the years, donate the rest to a place where those who can't afford to purchase their own decorations can have them to make their own memories.

Honey, we're using it all this year.  I don't care if we don't have the room.  Its Christmas, dammit.

The want of Things

My daily travels take me into the homes of people from different economic strata.  After those visits I often find myself having an introspective self-discussion about what I have just seen.  Recently, I visited the homes of several affluent people.

By "affluent," I don't mean the homes of people like Bill Gates or the CEO of Citigroup.  I'm talking about those I would consider to be in an economic level above mine. I'm not sure what you would specifically call it....probably because I'm not really sure where I fit into the overall scale.  As someone who is self employed, there are times I might feel flush and others when I feel that I'm not much better off than the average sales clerk at K-Mart.  Such is the nature of working for oneself.   The lives of the very top class are so out of line with most people's reality that I can't really have any meaningful discussion about them.  Their lives are dominated by numbers I can't wrap my mind around.

Meeting with people in the "next level up" is always interesting because it is easy to see myself existing in that sort of life.  IF something had been a bit different...if I had chosen a different career in a different place at perhaps a different time, it might be me.

Characteristic of the "next level up" is, of course, a larger home and perhaps a spare one somewhere else... both well appointed in more exclusive neighborhoods. With bigger homes comes more stuff.  Expensive cars, a boat, custom furniture, a fridge in every room.  Things. Gadgets. Lots of them.

My mind often goes through the motions.  "Wow...nice.  That media room would be great to have. Oh, and the Porsche... Maybe if I....... If I had only gone through with my fleeting thoughts about law school....Maybe I should have stayed with that old bat shit crazy girlfriend because her parents were loaded...."  Despite being what I consider to be a minimalist...existing with and being happy with just enough...sometimes I just WANT because I can picture how cool it might be to live in that huge house or lounge around on that boat in an expensive bathrobe without a worry about utility bills or property taxes..  Don't we all?  I know it would be cool.... until I got used to it.  Then it would just be something else I spent a lot of money on and didn't use very often.  Knowing that doesn't stop the desire.  I just try to recognize what is driving it.

What I see is what marketers portray.  Smiling people next to in-ground pools landscaped with exotic tropical greenery, ruggedly good looking men laughing with statuesque women while driving expensive, leather scented sports cars.....  People want that.  They just do.  We're taught to think products and things can make us into those smiling people.

While I'm sure there are plenty of affluent people who are extremely happy with their lives, a good many I meet don't seem to be.  Often I sense that their lives are complicated.  The money they earn and the possessions they have purchased with it have served to make things less simple.  The want of money can make us seek out a vocation not for the love of it, but for the superior levels of income it provides.  Is work fulfilling?  If it sucks, do the things purchased with the money make it all better?  Does it all create more pressure, more stress?  Some problems are completely independent of the size of our pile of stuff.  Relationship issues....problems with the kids, coworkers, lawsuits, the IRS, health issues...  Big screen TV's and a well appointed pool house can't help with any of it.

So, my question is:  Can one be truly minimalist, if one still occasionally wants?  Is true minimalism achieved only when the mind is completely unaffected by the conspicuous consumption of someone who can easily afford to do so?  I'm not talking minimalism in the completely aesthetic sense, but in an overall sense.  After all, I've seen plenty of "minimalist" flats in Architectural Digest.  A million dollar flat, glossy white, overlooking a big city with one sinuous and rather uncomfortable looking $20,000 lounger in the corner.  I'm not talking about that.

Could it be said that in some ways, is minimalism a borne out of  lack of income?  Is it a way to live a happier, lighter, less stressful life without requiring things or endless supplies of cash?  If someone is lucky enough to be born with a huge trust fund, is it less likely he/she will embrace minimalism?  I ask these questions often and never seem to have a good answer.  My guess is...minimalism is an idea that can be embraced in varying degrees.  My guess is that wanting is OK as long as we understand why and don't act on the impulses.  I am truly happy with what I have and relish the thought of enjoying my life with less junk weighing me down.  I can fantasize, can't I?  Might there be vegans who crave a steak but don't eat one?   One is no less vegan for wanting to tear into a juicy grilled Porterhouse...as long as the steak is never eaten.  And so it goes with minimalism.

I like living with less even though a fridge in every room would be pretty darn neat.

C'mon.  How could this not be great...for a little while.

Recession is over...What are you waiting for, folks?

At least that's what I'm hearing. In fact, some reports I read state that the recession has been over for more than a year. I need for the pundits who disseminate this information to ride with me for a few weeks. Opinions might change.

More and more, during my normal visits to potential clients, I am hearing stories of enormous financial distress created through job loss or catastrophic medical expenses.  The last half-dozen jobs we have been contracted to perform involve either foreclosure or business failure due to the economic downturn.

Everyone seems to desperately need money, but there's none to be found.  The recession ended when?   It hasn't ended yet if you ask me. Not according to what I see every darn day.   Even aside from business interactions, few people I speak with think that things are better. So what of these reports that we're on our way back to better days? (We are, but not yet.)

Here's my (potentially twisted) take on it.  Reports of the recession being over are designed to lead us out of our homes and back into the stores.  After all, we're all supposed to benefit from a robust and growing economy.  That only happens when we consume goods and services.  Demand for goods and services drives everything else so it is of paramount importance that those darned consumers get out there and....consume. Never mind if bank accounts are empty.   If we hear only crappy news, we go and hide.  Tell us not to worry, that things are getting better and we might just part with those few dollars we've managed to scratch together.

Well dressed economic experts tell us that we all benefit from an expanding economy. We hear reports about Wal Mart or Target's "same store sales" increasing by x percent year over year.  Economic growth and subsequent stock price growth only occurs when that number is positive.  That is, consumers must come out of their cocoons and spend more in those stores than they did last year.  Now I'm not an economist, but I don't think it is too hard to figure out that for things to always be better, we must always spend more. This year more than last, and next year more than this.  To do that we need more money. An ever increasing amount of money to go out and get more stuff....so everyone will be...better off?  Can that go on forever?

When I last checked, I thought we only had just so much money and world resources. The extra "growth" was in the form of credit. I want more but only have so much money so you just let me pay you later for the extra stuff. We bought everything this way.  Homes, cars, big screen TVs...it was all paid for with IOUs.  We did it for years.  When anyone will lend you money and you've got no skin in the game, it doesn't matter how much a home costs, does it?  No down payment?  No biggie.  Just sign here and worry about it later.   Have a nice day.  Now go shop for furniture.  I credit the Popeye character Wimpy for starting it all. "I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today."

One day, we woke up and wondered how everyone could possibly repay the huge amounts of money on all those IOUs.  Guess what?  Here we are.  Surprise.  Don't worry though, things are getting better. The boo-boo is well on the way to healing. So get out there and start doing what you've always done. Go spend.

I challenge everyone out there..... Why does the economy always have to expand?  Why must we always spend more?   Why couldn't we be OK with what we have?  Wouldn't we all be happier if there wasn't always this underlying pressure to spend more....to have more...for things to always be bigger.

Those homes I visit where the occupants are about to be tossed out by the bank.... They're always full of stuff...tons of it. I wonder how much it all cost new. I bet sometimes it cost more than the house they're about to lose. If I remember my hierarchy of needs from school correctly, there was something in there about shelter but nothing about boats, TVs or new bedroom sets purchased on credit.

Interesting.

Don't worry.  Just sign here.  Nothing bad will happen.

The Clutter in my Virtual Attic

It was time to replace the laptop.  I looked at my nine year old Dell like one might look at an old and ailing pet. I knew the end was near for my old friend.  Surfing the web on the prehistoric monster was like watching paint dry.  I'd often punch in the URL and then go cook dinner or build something, checking occasionally to see if the site had loaded.  No one could say I didn't use things until they owed me nothing.

Time for a family meeting.  Today's topic: Replacing our outdated tech with more efficient devices while keeping our simplification goals in mind.

If there's one thing that advancing technology has provided, it is the ability to do things with smaller, more efficient devices.  Part of our simplifying goal is to get rid of (or avoid) single use gadgets.  If we can replace three items (economically) with one, we give it serious consideration.  This concept is like candy to an electronics loving sugar hound.  I inherited my love of the newest beeping, flashing gizmos from my dad who surprisingly, despite nearing 70 is the go-to guy in the family when anyone is thinking about a purchase that involves a battery or something wireless.  I'd bet money that if we dropped my long deceased grandfather into the 21st century, we'd discover that he had the same affliction.

Despite my disdain for frivolous consumerism, I've been known to be a complete hypocrite when a new electronic gadget is involved.  At least I'm not impulsive.  I typically won't buy anything without exhaustive research and deliberation beforehand.  There are plenty of very chic devices out there, but I'm not convinced that they all have practical value.  Some seem destined to be quickly outdated (relatively speaking, since everything is quickly outdated nowadays) or are simply too expensive for what they do.

With the laptop decision looming, it was time to get my mind into gear.  How could we scale back and sell multiple items which we could then replace with one item.  As I pondered the possibilities in my office, I took note of the train wreck on my desk.  I had a full size desktop with a gigantic flat panel monitor.  A twisted, spaghetti-like mass of cables snaked about in front of me.  Did I need all of this?  Did my monitor need to be so huge?  (I only ended up with it because....it was at one of our auctions.)  Could a new laptop replace all of this volume and perform the same, if not better functions?  The desktop wasn't old, so I could probably sell it and offset much of the cost of the new laptop.  Time to get dad on the phone.

After multiple conversations about processor speeds and hard drive capacities, it was decided that the desktop should go.  With that decision made, I turned to scrutinize the other devices in our home.  We had an old video game system that could be sold since our daughter now had a late generation iPod that played hundreds of games.  Likewise with the portable DVD player since she could also play video on her cassette -sized device.  Now we were getting somewhere.  We were going to ditch the desktop, the older laptop, the portable DVD player and the game system.  Incoming would be one newer laptop.  A huge net gain in simplicity.  What I didn't realize is that I'd have to go through a whole new purging process to make all of this happen.  I'm not talking about the physical items that we were parting with.  That was easy.  More difficult was that  I now had to deal with all the data on my desktop computer.

Although my desktop was only a couple of years old, when I bought it I had the computer tech transfer my old files from my clunker over to the new system.  I never gave a second thought to what might have accumulated in that dark closet known as the the hard drive.  With this decision to downsize, I felt it might be time to sift through the data accumulation and ready the recycle bin.  I had no idea what I was in for.

It turns out that I had some sort of parallel life on my hard drive.  A life that looks like a hoarders house, only in cyberspace.  That life takes up no physical room so it's easy to overlook it during the simplification process, but man.....it was there.  Years and years of accumulated data, documents, saved webpages, bookmarks, photos...you name it.  I had just climbed into one of those attics that fills me with dread every time I poke my head into the scuttle and see the piles and piles of junk.  My own virtual attic from hell.  I needed to fuel up for this one.

After a good hearty dinner, I plopped myself down in front of my over sized monitor and clicked "Explore."  It was a mess.  Random files and folders everywhere, hundreds and hundreds of documents from years gone by.  Folders in folders inside more folders.  I needed a glass of wine. 

To look at every file and make a decision would take a lifetime, so I decided on a rule that works in our physical household...With the obvious exception of family pictures, if it is more than a year old and hasn't been utilized, it goes.  Great thing about computers today....all you do is mouse over the file and it tells you when it was last opened.  Turns out I had crap in there that was 7, 8 even 9 years old.  I practically wore out the delete button in four hours.  In many cases, entire overstuffed folders were ditched.  Nearly half my hard drive ended up in the recycle bin.  Old business letters, recipes we sent to friends, screen shots of long defunct websites, photos of items we posted on eBay...all into the virtual dumpster.  It was almost as good as sex.  Almost.

NOW....I'm ready for the new laptop.  What I discovered is that clutter in our lives can extend well beyond the physical items, but into the virtual world and from there into the psychological world.  Starting with the physical items will naturally lead us through the other layers that are not so obvious.  The desired result being that we eventually free ourselves from the clutter in our minds.

This is what my hard drive looked like.