Every house has a nest....a coiled conglomeration tucked in a drawer, hidden in a cabinet or stuffed in a box somewhere. It looks as if we've discovered the den of some electronic rodent. The only thing missing would be a few clicking and whirring offspring, their red little LED eyes staring up at us. The nest always consists of the same type of material; the little DC adapters that get separated from the devices that need them.
How does this happen? And when it does, why can't we reunite the wall warts with their hosts?
Here's my take on the evolution of the "nest."
For some odd reason that I have yet to understand, most adapters do not have the name of the product they are used with stamped on them. There are some notable exceptions, and those exceptions are the reasons that those particular adapters rarely end up in the nest. We actually KNOW WHICH PRODUCT THEY ARE USED WITH. For some reason, the Toshiba answering machine I bought years ago came with a 3.43 VDC adapter marked something like "China Adapterco," not Toshiba. The answering machine is long gone, but for some reason, the adapter still resides in the nest. Why? Because despite there being 58 different sized little thingy ends that adapter companies use, this particular adapter looks exactly the same or similar to nearly all the other adapters for nearly every small product in my house.
I know I have an extra modem. Could that be the adapter that works with it? Or maybe it's the one from that clock radio in the closet. Not sure how it got separated, but I wouldn't want to ACCIDENTALLY THROW AWAY THE ADAPTER I MIGHT NEED. So it ends up where? In the nest. Somehow the nest has 34 adapters all hopelessly tangled together with the odd RCA cable or wired computer mouse. Problem is, I only have 8 items in my house that's require an adapter, and all of them have the adapter with it. So how....? Well, you never know when you might NEED an adapter. After all, you could possibly misplace one, right? Never hurts to have an extra.... Oh, so naive am I. What we never seem to realize is that those adapters all have a specific voltage. Combine that with the 58 different possible little end thingys that insert into the host and you've got the potential for 43,667 different varieties of adapters, all of which look the same. Sure, your video game adapter fries.... Where to do you go first? The nest of course! You pull out the knot of 34 adapters out of 43,667 different ones that are possible. This gives you a statistical possibility of matching your dead adapter of about 1 in 1,200 or about .08%. Invariably the 34 adapters go back in the drawer...a little more knotted than before because "you never know. "
This whole scenario is multiplied in size many orders of magnitude when you have a business. There are so many electronic gadgets...printers, faxes, cordless phones, cell phones, monitors.... I recently found a nest that must have weighed 20 pounds in a box behind some packing materials on a shelf unit at my business. I stared at it for a moment and then proceeded to do one the riskiest things I've ever undertaken in my life. I threw the entire nest into the trash. As I stood there perspiring from the stress, I thought about pulling it back out of the trash and shoving back into that box on the shelf... "What if you throw away one you need???? Then what?!" It's been a year since I did that and the earth didn't stop turning. I've never found an item in a drawer or anywhere else that required one of the adapters I tossed. I say, go get that nest America, and toss that shit out. It'll be cathartic. I promise. You'll never look back.
Despite that happening a year ago, a few days ago I found a new nest forming in a drawer with the stapler and the post-its.... How? I have no earthly idea. As you sit reading this, one is forming in your home...slowly and insidiously, seemingly by itself. It's a fact of life. ;-)
Thursday, September 24, 2015
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Perspective
It had been a pretty bad storm. Lots of lightning. One bolt close enough to startle a building full of people at work. Then I got a text: "Are you coming home soon?" Pretty normal words on most days, but that particular text, shrouded in it's unemotional font on my phone screen, failed to express the gravity of the situation. I sent a text back, jokingly..."Is my house burning?" No response. I dismissed it and went on about my business as the rain outside subsided.
A few minutes later, my phone rang. The voice on the other end was cracking with fright and confusion. "When are you coming home?!!" It was that unmistakable tone and sense of urgency that nobody ever wants to hear. Its the moment you know that something very, very bad has happened. My heart leapt and vision became narrowed as I inquired further. "Please...come home quickly! The firemen are cutting a hole in the side of your house with axes and there's smoke! I heard something during the storm. I don't know what's happening..." The voice trailed off...a mixture of hysteria and sadness.
The 15 minute ride home was a tough one. There's the need to resist pressing the accelerator to the floor, which could endanger myself and others not to mention attracting the unwanted attention of state troopers. All sorts of visions are going through my mind. Charred remains. Where do I sleep? Insurance. Rebuilding. All my things. I had 15 minutes to come to terms and accept that everything could be gone. All of it.
All the grappling with the everyday clutter of others must have had an effect on me. I felt relatively calm. Relatively. The idea of having nothing was oddly...intriguing. I had always thought about what it might be like to live life with not much more than what was on my back. But this wasn't the way I wanted to explore that intrigue.
As I got closer to home I scanned the horizon for a dark pall of smoke that would likely indicate a building consumed by flames in the distance. There was none. But as I turned the corner to my street, I felt anxiety wash over me. Three fire trucks....not good. The neighbors gathered outside in a ring...the indignity of it isn't something I want to experience again. The last light of day was waning and thankfully I saw no tongues of orange leaping from the roof. I rushed up to one of the firefighters who explained that there had been a fire in the wall caused by lightning. The fire melted the water pipe joints and they had to shut off the water to keep the house from flooding. He wanted to show me what had happened.
As I opened from door I remember the acrid smell of burnt insulation, plastic pipes and wood but the house seemed intact. In the hazy flashlight beam I could see the ceiling in the bath pulled down to check for flame, lots of water from the burst pipe and some charred areas on the wall, but everything else was intact and undamaged. With electric and water off, I decided to sleep elsewhere. As I left, I opened all the windows...and sighed. Deeply. Daylight revealed that a bolt of lightning punched through the house and grounded at the copper pipes, causing a fire in the wall that was probably extinguished when the pipe burst. Damage was confined to the bathroom. I never imagined I'd be thankful for a burst pipe and that I wasn't home for the event.
In the moments between the phone call and the aftermath, there was a lot to be reckoned with. I don't recall that I freaked out. There was a period of clarity. Perspective, if you will. As I steeled myself for the worst, I thought "It's just stuff. I'll go on. I'm OK if it's all gone." Events like this have the power to alter the direction of one's life. It could be the impetus to relocate or perhaps change how life is lived. I've written plenty about how the pursuit of things over experiences can dull life's shine. I still believe that...even more so now. In essence, I passed my own pop quiz. If you were faced with the possibility of losing every material thing you owned, how do you think it would affect you? The answers might say a lot about how material things figure in your life. Hopefully, a frantic call won't be required to find those answers.
A few minutes later, my phone rang. The voice on the other end was cracking with fright and confusion. "When are you coming home?!!" It was that unmistakable tone and sense of urgency that nobody ever wants to hear. Its the moment you know that something very, very bad has happened. My heart leapt and vision became narrowed as I inquired further. "Please...come home quickly! The firemen are cutting a hole in the side of your house with axes and there's smoke! I heard something during the storm. I don't know what's happening..." The voice trailed off...a mixture of hysteria and sadness.
The 15 minute ride home was a tough one. There's the need to resist pressing the accelerator to the floor, which could endanger myself and others not to mention attracting the unwanted attention of state troopers. All sorts of visions are going through my mind. Charred remains. Where do I sleep? Insurance. Rebuilding. All my things. I had 15 minutes to come to terms and accept that everything could be gone. All of it.
All the grappling with the everyday clutter of others must have had an effect on me. I felt relatively calm. Relatively. The idea of having nothing was oddly...intriguing. I had always thought about what it might be like to live life with not much more than what was on my back. But this wasn't the way I wanted to explore that intrigue.
As I got closer to home I scanned the horizon for a dark pall of smoke that would likely indicate a building consumed by flames in the distance. There was none. But as I turned the corner to my street, I felt anxiety wash over me. Three fire trucks....not good. The neighbors gathered outside in a ring...the indignity of it isn't something I want to experience again. The last light of day was waning and thankfully I saw no tongues of orange leaping from the roof. I rushed up to one of the firefighters who explained that there had been a fire in the wall caused by lightning. The fire melted the water pipe joints and they had to shut off the water to keep the house from flooding. He wanted to show me what had happened.
As I opened from door I remember the acrid smell of burnt insulation, plastic pipes and wood but the house seemed intact. In the hazy flashlight beam I could see the ceiling in the bath pulled down to check for flame, lots of water from the burst pipe and some charred areas on the wall, but everything else was intact and undamaged. With electric and water off, I decided to sleep elsewhere. As I left, I opened all the windows...and sighed. Deeply. Daylight revealed that a bolt of lightning punched through the house and grounded at the copper pipes, causing a fire in the wall that was probably extinguished when the pipe burst. Damage was confined to the bathroom. I never imagined I'd be thankful for a burst pipe and that I wasn't home for the event.
In the moments between the phone call and the aftermath, there was a lot to be reckoned with. I don't recall that I freaked out. There was a period of clarity. Perspective, if you will. As I steeled myself for the worst, I thought "It's just stuff. I'll go on. I'm OK if it's all gone." Events like this have the power to alter the direction of one's life. It could be the impetus to relocate or perhaps change how life is lived. I've written plenty about how the pursuit of things over experiences can dull life's shine. I still believe that...even more so now. In essence, I passed my own pop quiz. If you were faced with the possibility of losing every material thing you owned, how do you think it would affect you? The answers might say a lot about how material things figure in your life. Hopefully, a frantic call won't be required to find those answers.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Get a Real Job!
A hustler. That's a term used by my dad to describe me. I'm sure he doesn't mean it in a bad way. I don't know about you, but when I hear the term "hustler" I think of gritty characters on society's fringes selling watches from opened overcoats and shady pest control specialists bilking old ladies out of their social security checks by claiming they have "brick mites" eating their houses. I don't think dad meant it that way.
Dad spent most of his adult life working in the financial sector. He's held several important positions that provided him an office, a predictable paycheck and required him to wear pressed clothes, a tie, and work in heavily air conditioned facilities lit by fluorescent lighting. He had a "real" job.
This morning, I watched an interesting video about a musician who, early on, chose to make a living by being a street mime dressed in white. She made a few bucks doing it and found she was able to connect with people in her own particular way. In short, she enjoyed what she was doing but often endured the screams from passers-by telling her to "get a real job." She has a great story and while I don't listen to punk-cabaret, that's not the point...
What is a "real" job and who gets to decide what makes it "real?"
When I was growing up, a real job was something you did predictably, every day, for someone else in order to get money. Predictable money. Typically the hours were 9-5, Monday through Friday. You got weekends off and sometimes a couple of weeks for vacation. It was also assumed that the more education you received in the form of various graduate and post-graduate degrees, the more money you'd make and it'd be less likely that you'd have to work around heavy machinery.. If you didn't have a lot of paper certificates from schools, you'd generally be expected to work in construction or at a factory making left rear car fenders or something that required you to sweat a lot in July or freeze all day in December. Funny how starting a business was rarely, if ever mentioned.
Enter the 21st Century where companies are no longer loyal to their workers and blue collar jobs are now located in Asia. Factories are shuttered and large corporations continue to outsource jobs and cut workforce in an effort to increase profitability to appease fickle stockholders. Today, a "real" job often comes in the form of something part-time...like a barista at a Starbucks. White collar jobs are increasingly difficult to land and our society finds itself awash in a sea of college graduates with few positions available for them. About that "real" job thing....?
I had two "real" jobs in my life. I hated them both. Really. Hated. Them.
I distinctly remember not wanting to get out of bed in the morning...loathing what I did to earn money with every shred of my being. The same thing. Every single day. Again and again and again.
Within a few years I'd had enough of the "real" job torture and decided I'd go back to grad school while I figured the whole thing out. I'd had a taste of doing things on my own early on. In middle school I sold coins and baseball cards at the local flea market and in high school I started a little enterprise with a button making machine. My schoolmates would order personalized buttons from me and I'd deliver them to school the next day and collect $2. My materials cost was something like a quarter. I went one step further in college and started conducting fundraisers for campus organizations. Members would set up at the college union and hawk personalized buttons to their friends and passers-by. They'd get half the revenue and I'd get the other half. I found it afforded me the ability to hang out all day with cute college girls while doing something I enjoyed... and I got paid for it. Now I had beer money without having to scrub floors at the local Pizza Hut...which I suppose was more of a "real" job. Inside, I felt a little guilty... as if I was breaking some rule about what work was supposed to be like. You weren't supposed to enjoy it.... were you?
Fast forward a quarter century. I still don't have a "real" job. Some might be appalled at the fact that I'm an auctioneer, I sell items online and I buy and sell coins as a "career"....but I wouldn't have it any other way. The job market is terrible and only a few lucky people I know have any income stability. There's a lot to be said for doing what you love, even if it makes you little. Like the gal who collected 60-90 bucks a day being an 8 foot tall mime painted white....She got something out of it. To me, that makes it just as "real" as a job can get. Even better is that she used her imagination to come up with a creative way to feed and clothe herself. I think our society needs to redefine how we look at what a job is. A job doesn't necessary have to come with fixed hours, fixed pay or even result in something tangible created. A job doesn't have to provide anything specific as long as the people on both ends of the transaction get SOMETHING out of it....even if that something is hard to quantify.
So what does this all have to do with minimalism? A lot. If you can be happy with less, you can do what makes you happy without worrying about whether it pays enough for you to afford all the things you think you need. We only get so much time. Wouldn't it be nice to do something interesting? Something that pushes the envelope? Something that creates self-satisfaction? Wouldn't you like to create your own day, every day and be in charge of how its used? You can. My dad calls me a "hustler." But he sees how happy I am...and he's told me that he wasn't brave enough to not have the steady paycheck that the corporate world provided him. Luckily, it worked out in the end, but he traded a lot of life for that. Hopefully, we'll all see that we don't always have to make that trade. Screw a "real" job. How about a "real" life? If you can make enough to take care of yourself and be content with what you have without relying on anyone else (or the government) and you are happy with what you are doing for your income (as long as it doesn't take from anyone else's happiness), that's all that counts. That's all I believe you need to make your job "real."
Dad spent most of his adult life working in the financial sector. He's held several important positions that provided him an office, a predictable paycheck and required him to wear pressed clothes, a tie, and work in heavily air conditioned facilities lit by fluorescent lighting. He had a "real" job.
This morning, I watched an interesting video about a musician who, early on, chose to make a living by being a street mime dressed in white. She made a few bucks doing it and found she was able to connect with people in her own particular way. In short, she enjoyed what she was doing but often endured the screams from passers-by telling her to "get a real job." She has a great story and while I don't listen to punk-cabaret, that's not the point...
What is a "real" job and who gets to decide what makes it "real?"
When I was growing up, a real job was something you did predictably, every day, for someone else in order to get money. Predictable money. Typically the hours were 9-5, Monday through Friday. You got weekends off and sometimes a couple of weeks for vacation. It was also assumed that the more education you received in the form of various graduate and post-graduate degrees, the more money you'd make and it'd be less likely that you'd have to work around heavy machinery.. If you didn't have a lot of paper certificates from schools, you'd generally be expected to work in construction or at a factory making left rear car fenders or something that required you to sweat a lot in July or freeze all day in December. Funny how starting a business was rarely, if ever mentioned.
Enter the 21st Century where companies are no longer loyal to their workers and blue collar jobs are now located in Asia. Factories are shuttered and large corporations continue to outsource jobs and cut workforce in an effort to increase profitability to appease fickle stockholders. Today, a "real" job often comes in the form of something part-time...like a barista at a Starbucks. White collar jobs are increasingly difficult to land and our society finds itself awash in a sea of college graduates with few positions available for them. About that "real" job thing....?
I had two "real" jobs in my life. I hated them both. Really. Hated. Them.
I distinctly remember not wanting to get out of bed in the morning...loathing what I did to earn money with every shred of my being. The same thing. Every single day. Again and again and again.
Within a few years I'd had enough of the "real" job torture and decided I'd go back to grad school while I figured the whole thing out. I'd had a taste of doing things on my own early on. In middle school I sold coins and baseball cards at the local flea market and in high school I started a little enterprise with a button making machine. My schoolmates would order personalized buttons from me and I'd deliver them to school the next day and collect $2. My materials cost was something like a quarter. I went one step further in college and started conducting fundraisers for campus organizations. Members would set up at the college union and hawk personalized buttons to their friends and passers-by. They'd get half the revenue and I'd get the other half. I found it afforded me the ability to hang out all day with cute college girls while doing something I enjoyed... and I got paid for it. Now I had beer money without having to scrub floors at the local Pizza Hut...which I suppose was more of a "real" job. Inside, I felt a little guilty... as if I was breaking some rule about what work was supposed to be like. You weren't supposed to enjoy it.... were you?
Fast forward a quarter century. I still don't have a "real" job. Some might be appalled at the fact that I'm an auctioneer, I sell items online and I buy and sell coins as a "career"....but I wouldn't have it any other way. The job market is terrible and only a few lucky people I know have any income stability. There's a lot to be said for doing what you love, even if it makes you little. Like the gal who collected 60-90 bucks a day being an 8 foot tall mime painted white....She got something out of it. To me, that makes it just as "real" as a job can get. Even better is that she used her imagination to come up with a creative way to feed and clothe herself. I think our society needs to redefine how we look at what a job is. A job doesn't necessary have to come with fixed hours, fixed pay or even result in something tangible created. A job doesn't have to provide anything specific as long as the people on both ends of the transaction get SOMETHING out of it....even if that something is hard to quantify.
So what does this all have to do with minimalism? A lot. If you can be happy with less, you can do what makes you happy without worrying about whether it pays enough for you to afford all the things you think you need. We only get so much time. Wouldn't it be nice to do something interesting? Something that pushes the envelope? Something that creates self-satisfaction? Wouldn't you like to create your own day, every day and be in charge of how its used? You can. My dad calls me a "hustler." But he sees how happy I am...and he's told me that he wasn't brave enough to not have the steady paycheck that the corporate world provided him. Luckily, it worked out in the end, but he traded a lot of life for that. Hopefully, we'll all see that we don't always have to make that trade. Screw a "real" job. How about a "real" life? If you can make enough to take care of yourself and be content with what you have without relying on anyone else (or the government) and you are happy with what you are doing for your income (as long as it doesn't take from anyone else's happiness), that's all that counts. That's all I believe you need to make your job "real."
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| Explain to me how this would not be a "real" job if it makes people happy, makes the performer happy and creates enough income for her to take care of herself? Are we jealous that we didn't "think outside the box? Don't know about you, I think it's awesome! |
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Minimalist extremism
We hear so much about extremists. They exist across all religions, races, and beliefs, and today I read about a bunch of loosely scattered folks who would fit into the definition of "minimalist extremists."
As much as I savor the idea of simplifying my life and making it smaller, there are some who have taken the concept to a whole new level by living in 100 square foot homes. I'm not actually sure if they're my heroes or if I think they're a bit insane. Regardless of what I think, you've got to give someone credit for proving that it CAN be done.
It all started in California when a young man decided he wanted to live in a micro-home. He later went on to start the Tumbleweed House Company which specializes in manufacturing tiny, portable homes. I believe there's a sub-100 square foot model and the largest is around 175 square feet, about the size of the average walk-in closet in a suburban home. To put that into perspective, the average American home contains somewhere around 2,000 square feet of space. That's about 15 times more space than you'd find in an average Tumbleweed home.
As a minimalist, I have spent a good 7 years in homes with 800-850 square feet of space. Most people think my home is VERY small, but I have a hard time wrapping my mind around living in 120 square feet. In a home the size of a smallish bedroom, one must have a kitchen, bath, living space, bed and storage. I don't care how creative you are, that's a mighty tight squeeze. It would require paring belongings down to practically what you could carry on your back or in the boot of a Smart Car. I know its very possible because I've traveled for chunks of time with only a small backpack, but in many ways traveling with practically nothing is different from LIVING with practically nothing.
The little homes are well built but far from inexpensive on a square footage basis. A 120 square foot model will run you about 40 grand. That's a higher price per foot than in all but some of the most expensive cities. Granted the little dwellings make ingenious use of space. Tables fold, benches swing out, the bed is up in a loft and the bathroom design enables you to shower, brush your teeth, and take care of nature's call pretty much all at the same time. Additionally, the homes are on wheels, less because they are easy to move, but rather due to the fact that most municipalities won't permit a stick built home of such a size. It's so small, it violates many ordinances regarding minimum space standards. Most towns and cities won't let you live in a fancy garden shed. It isn't ironic that in a society that preaches excess, you're breaking the law if you decide to live in a very small home. The solution is to make it mobile since home ordinances don't apply homes that move.
There's no doubt that in some very expensive cities, people get very creative with small spaces. Just peruse the "Small, Cool" contests on Apartment Therapy and you'll see some fantastic tiny places. When a micro studio runs $2,000 a month in your city, you do whatever is necessary to live small because anything else is simply unaffordable. But living that small in Anytown USA is a whole different animal. It's not a choice out of necessity but rather a lifestyle choice. There's a big difference.
I currently live in the downtown historic district of a coastal southern city. Housing here isn't nearly as expensive as where I came from. Not even close. As a result, you don't often see many REALLY small spaces here, but they do exist. I looked at one such space which was just over 300 SF. It was gorgeous. There were high ceilings with crown mouldings, a top of the line kitchen in miniature, premium appliances, solid mahogany doors, marble floors and super modern fixtures...everything you'd expect in a luxury home. It was well located....BUT, it was basically a really pretty closet-sized space. I labored in my mind as to where my bike would go and what I would do with some of my beloved belongings. My adolescent daughter, who occasionally spends time with me would have to sleep on the couch and have no space of her own. The truth is, some of the very few things I'm attached to would have to go. I'd have hard choices to make. I'll admit, it was very tempting but even as a minimalist, I found myself feeling a bit anxious about having to cram my entire life into such a tiny box. In the end, I settled on an 850 square foot flat available in a similar location that was less money and had some luxurious features of its own. When it came down to it, I just couldn't comfortably make the jump into such extreme minimalism. Minimalism shouldn't be about being uncomfortable.
I suppose minimalism, like religion, has it's degrees. Some are content to simply call themselves Christians or Jews or Muslims and others take their faith and beliefs to a whole new level. I'm not saying that minimalist extremism is bad. No extremism has to be bad so long as it doesn't harm or infringe upon the rights of others. It's a personal choice. Sure, this whole blog thing is about promoting a simpler life. It is very possible to be extremely happy with far less than most people in our society have, but personally, I don't think trying to cram myself into a tiny home the size of a closet would make me happy in the long term. For me, that's excessive. I like to cook, so I need just a bit of space to prep ingredients and more than one burner. I have a daughter who likes to have a little bit of space of her own. A tiny bath is fine, but I don't want to have a throne in the shower. I'd also like to live in a home that's attached to the ground. All those personal wants CAN be addressed in the context of a rather small space. I can still live simply, and in some ways luxuriously in a fairly small home. I can't personally justify being an extreme minimalist...but I wouldn't mind renting one of those little tiny houses just to try it out. Who knows....I might just like it.
As much as I savor the idea of simplifying my life and making it smaller, there are some who have taken the concept to a whole new level by living in 100 square foot homes. I'm not actually sure if they're my heroes or if I think they're a bit insane. Regardless of what I think, you've got to give someone credit for proving that it CAN be done.
It all started in California when a young man decided he wanted to live in a micro-home. He later went on to start the Tumbleweed House Company which specializes in manufacturing tiny, portable homes. I believe there's a sub-100 square foot model and the largest is around 175 square feet, about the size of the average walk-in closet in a suburban home. To put that into perspective, the average American home contains somewhere around 2,000 square feet of space. That's about 15 times more space than you'd find in an average Tumbleweed home.
As a minimalist, I have spent a good 7 years in homes with 800-850 square feet of space. Most people think my home is VERY small, but I have a hard time wrapping my mind around living in 120 square feet. In a home the size of a smallish bedroom, one must have a kitchen, bath, living space, bed and storage. I don't care how creative you are, that's a mighty tight squeeze. It would require paring belongings down to practically what you could carry on your back or in the boot of a Smart Car. I know its very possible because I've traveled for chunks of time with only a small backpack, but in many ways traveling with practically nothing is different from LIVING with practically nothing.
The little homes are well built but far from inexpensive on a square footage basis. A 120 square foot model will run you about 40 grand. That's a higher price per foot than in all but some of the most expensive cities. Granted the little dwellings make ingenious use of space. Tables fold, benches swing out, the bed is up in a loft and the bathroom design enables you to shower, brush your teeth, and take care of nature's call pretty much all at the same time. Additionally, the homes are on wheels, less because they are easy to move, but rather due to the fact that most municipalities won't permit a stick built home of such a size. It's so small, it violates many ordinances regarding minimum space standards. Most towns and cities won't let you live in a fancy garden shed. It isn't ironic that in a society that preaches excess, you're breaking the law if you decide to live in a very small home. The solution is to make it mobile since home ordinances don't apply homes that move.
There's no doubt that in some very expensive cities, people get very creative with small spaces. Just peruse the "Small, Cool" contests on Apartment Therapy and you'll see some fantastic tiny places. When a micro studio runs $2,000 a month in your city, you do whatever is necessary to live small because anything else is simply unaffordable. But living that small in Anytown USA is a whole different animal. It's not a choice out of necessity but rather a lifestyle choice. There's a big difference.
I currently live in the downtown historic district of a coastal southern city. Housing here isn't nearly as expensive as where I came from. Not even close. As a result, you don't often see many REALLY small spaces here, but they do exist. I looked at one such space which was just over 300 SF. It was gorgeous. There were high ceilings with crown mouldings, a top of the line kitchen in miniature, premium appliances, solid mahogany doors, marble floors and super modern fixtures...everything you'd expect in a luxury home. It was well located....BUT, it was basically a really pretty closet-sized space. I labored in my mind as to where my bike would go and what I would do with some of my beloved belongings. My adolescent daughter, who occasionally spends time with me would have to sleep on the couch and have no space of her own. The truth is, some of the very few things I'm attached to would have to go. I'd have hard choices to make. I'll admit, it was very tempting but even as a minimalist, I found myself feeling a bit anxious about having to cram my entire life into such a tiny box. In the end, I settled on an 850 square foot flat available in a similar location that was less money and had some luxurious features of its own. When it came down to it, I just couldn't comfortably make the jump into such extreme minimalism. Minimalism shouldn't be about being uncomfortable.
I suppose minimalism, like religion, has it's degrees. Some are content to simply call themselves Christians or Jews or Muslims and others take their faith and beliefs to a whole new level. I'm not saying that minimalist extremism is bad. No extremism has to be bad so long as it doesn't harm or infringe upon the rights of others. It's a personal choice. Sure, this whole blog thing is about promoting a simpler life. It is very possible to be extremely happy with far less than most people in our society have, but personally, I don't think trying to cram myself into a tiny home the size of a closet would make me happy in the long term. For me, that's excessive. I like to cook, so I need just a bit of space to prep ingredients and more than one burner. I have a daughter who likes to have a little bit of space of her own. A tiny bath is fine, but I don't want to have a throne in the shower. I'd also like to live in a home that's attached to the ground. All those personal wants CAN be addressed in the context of a rather small space. I can still live simply, and in some ways luxuriously in a fairly small home. I can't personally justify being an extreme minimalist...but I wouldn't mind renting one of those little tiny houses just to try it out. Who knows....I might just like it.
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| Its intriguing, but I just don't know if I could do it....could you? |
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Our disappearing history
Nothing like a cool fall afternoon at the flea market....one of my favorite pastimes is digging through piles of old cool stuff, taking a glimpse at what life was like 100 years ago. Strangely enough, I can't help but think that 100 years from now there will be precious little evidence of our past to sift through other than what might be saved in digital form. The truth is...nobody really knows how long anything saved in digital form might last.
Here's the problem (or problems) as I see it:
Photos: Old pictures from the past, although fragile, are tangible and can be physically archived even if that archive happens to be a hot attic. I know that most of the photos I have taken in the last 5 years are currently stored in digital form. While its true that I took thousands of photos in those years, almost none are in tangible form. As technology progresses, more and more photos are lost forever due to hardware failures, storage device failures and changes in storage format. If I kept my photos on an unmarked SD card in a drawer, what are the chances my family would know to look for it if I left this earth suddenly? Physical pictures can be found, SD cards get lost or tossed. So....what are the odds any of my family photos will be around in 100 years? Should I plan better? Yes, but like most people, properly archiving digital photos isn't on the top of the To-do list. Most will vanish...probably. What this means is that after physical pictures gave way to digital, there may be huge gaps in family photgraphic history, and even history in a broader sense if we fail to back up the zeros and ones to something more physical.
Household items: Nothing is made to last anymore. That 100 year old apple corer that grandpa got from his dad is made of cast iron. It isn't going anywhere. Today everything is made to toss, and even if it isn't, the quality of yesteryear is long gone. Today an apple corer might make it a couple of decades if there's no plastic in it and its stored carefully. Sadly, our history is sent to the landfill on a daily basis. The same goes for furniture. How long can a particle board chest of drawers be expected to last? In a moist spot it might last 6 months before it disintegrates into oatmeal. Even real furniture, with few exceptions, won't last as long as the solid wood and pegged construction of years long gone.
Homes: I love stepping into a 150 year old home. Beams were beefy and foundations were stone. Many were engineered to outlast even the longest living occupants. Not today. Profit margin rules when it comes to constructing new homes. Most are slapped up in a few weeks using plastic pipe, OSB...which is just fancy particle board, and a quick covering of vinyl siding. Weather and water, a home's mortal enemy make quick work of newer structures. Cheap materials rot and decay quickly if exposed to the elements. Older homes with their dense wood and stone structures resist weather longer (although when they fail, they fail big.) The charm, quality and sturdiness of older homes often makes them candidates for restoration. New tract housing often has zero charm and only provides basic shelter and structure. Recent homes in poor condition are more often razed than renovated because it makes little economic sense to restore them. Once again, the almighty dollar dictates the demise of our physical history.
So what will be out there to look at in 100 years? Will the furniture below have the same value in the future as a walnut Victorian chest from around 1900 has today? Will it even last a tiny fraction of a century?
Here's the problem (or problems) as I see it:
Photos: Old pictures from the past, although fragile, are tangible and can be physically archived even if that archive happens to be a hot attic. I know that most of the photos I have taken in the last 5 years are currently stored in digital form. While its true that I took thousands of photos in those years, almost none are in tangible form. As technology progresses, more and more photos are lost forever due to hardware failures, storage device failures and changes in storage format. If I kept my photos on an unmarked SD card in a drawer, what are the chances my family would know to look for it if I left this earth suddenly? Physical pictures can be found, SD cards get lost or tossed. So....what are the odds any of my family photos will be around in 100 years? Should I plan better? Yes, but like most people, properly archiving digital photos isn't on the top of the To-do list. Most will vanish...probably. What this means is that after physical pictures gave way to digital, there may be huge gaps in family photgraphic history, and even history in a broader sense if we fail to back up the zeros and ones to something more physical.
Household items: Nothing is made to last anymore. That 100 year old apple corer that grandpa got from his dad is made of cast iron. It isn't going anywhere. Today everything is made to toss, and even if it isn't, the quality of yesteryear is long gone. Today an apple corer might make it a couple of decades if there's no plastic in it and its stored carefully. Sadly, our history is sent to the landfill on a daily basis. The same goes for furniture. How long can a particle board chest of drawers be expected to last? In a moist spot it might last 6 months before it disintegrates into oatmeal. Even real furniture, with few exceptions, won't last as long as the solid wood and pegged construction of years long gone.
Homes: I love stepping into a 150 year old home. Beams were beefy and foundations were stone. Many were engineered to outlast even the longest living occupants. Not today. Profit margin rules when it comes to constructing new homes. Most are slapped up in a few weeks using plastic pipe, OSB...which is just fancy particle board, and a quick covering of vinyl siding. Weather and water, a home's mortal enemy make quick work of newer structures. Cheap materials rot and decay quickly if exposed to the elements. Older homes with their dense wood and stone structures resist weather longer (although when they fail, they fail big.) The charm, quality and sturdiness of older homes often makes them candidates for restoration. New tract housing often has zero charm and only provides basic shelter and structure. Recent homes in poor condition are more often razed than renovated because it makes little economic sense to restore them. Once again, the almighty dollar dictates the demise of our physical history.
So what will be out there to look at in 100 years? Will the furniture below have the same value in the future as a walnut Victorian chest from around 1900 has today? Will it even last a tiny fraction of a century?
 |
| So what do you think the life expectancy is for something made of pressed sawdust? |
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Its hard being minimalist in a money centered society.
Its been over a year since I posted. I've had plenty of good material pop into my head, but I just seem to get sidetracked. Poof...a year passes.
As we all know, our country is still in the economic doldrums. Nobody seems to be getting anywhere fast, except for the super rich. I was reading an article about how expensive it is to be poor. Those who have little money or credit always pay higher interest rates, they get whacked for bounced check fees and rates on credit cards approach numbers you'd expect to pay if you borrowed money from a guy with only 3 fingers on his left hand. The end result is that a lot of people can never dig themselves out of bad economic times.
I've been watching the news on current events and can see now, more than ever, we (meaning those who make the rules) base our legislation and values on what makes the most money...what benefits the economy. We don't seem to care much about what is good for our citizens or what creates a good life for most people. Another recent article discussed how Americans have been paring back their levels of credit card debt. That's good, right? Apparently not. The article went on to explain that since consumer spending accounts for 70% of the economy, people have obviously lowered levels of spending and that's, well....not good for the economy.
I understand how the economy helps us all have a decent life as goods and services are exchanged....but here's what I'd like to say... a lot....FUCK the economy! What about the PEOPLE who live in this country? Does everything always need to be more, better, larger, newer....? Do we always need to spend more? Do companies always need to make more profit this year than they did last year? If that's what everyone expects then companies must figure out new ways to extract more profits. That means worker exploitation, poorer quality goods that need to be replaced and so on...OR coercing everyone into spending more money that they don't have.
I've always been a fan of the EU and Scandinavia where the focus is more on people rather than profits. Citizens in those regions receive: Lots of mandatory paid vacation time, guaranteed medical care, cleaner surroundings, healthy foods and much more that comes with culture that is centered around people over profits. Folks on the other side of the pond are among the happiest and most content in the world even though they have very high tax rates and the weather can be downright miserable for much of the year....AND they typically have far fewer possessions and smaller homes than we have. Here we get less and less vacation time, longer work weeks, an emphasis on more and bigger, unhealthy food everywhere, ridiculously expensive medical care (often of lesser quality) that bankrupts a fairly large number of citizens ....but I'll stop there. The majority of our problems stem from placing profits first over the well being of the citizenry.
Sadly, it doesn't appear that we will change our ways anytime soon since money controls everything here...even the legislative process. Will we ever get to the point where we aren't led to the mall in an effort to cure what ails us? When I tell people I'm a business owner who isn't trying to franchise or make enough to buy a boat or a huge house, I'm considered "unmotivated." Why would anyone be content to live in an 850SF apartment when my parents had a 2,000SF home? Yes....I know we're supposed to aspire to doing better than our parents did. Who says I'm not doing better if I'm happy with what I have? Is the size of my home and the quantity of shit it's filled with the only measure of what "doing better" is? We need to think hard about what is REALLY important....Having crap or having experiences? Would it be OK if we all said..."I'm good, I don't need anymore stuff." Would the earth split open? Probably not.
As we all know, our country is still in the economic doldrums. Nobody seems to be getting anywhere fast, except for the super rich. I was reading an article about how expensive it is to be poor. Those who have little money or credit always pay higher interest rates, they get whacked for bounced check fees and rates on credit cards approach numbers you'd expect to pay if you borrowed money from a guy with only 3 fingers on his left hand. The end result is that a lot of people can never dig themselves out of bad economic times.
I've been watching the news on current events and can see now, more than ever, we (meaning those who make the rules) base our legislation and values on what makes the most money...what benefits the economy. We don't seem to care much about what is good for our citizens or what creates a good life for most people. Another recent article discussed how Americans have been paring back their levels of credit card debt. That's good, right? Apparently not. The article went on to explain that since consumer spending accounts for 70% of the economy, people have obviously lowered levels of spending and that's, well....not good for the economy.
I understand how the economy helps us all have a decent life as goods and services are exchanged....but here's what I'd like to say... a lot....FUCK the economy! What about the PEOPLE who live in this country? Does everything always need to be more, better, larger, newer....? Do we always need to spend more? Do companies always need to make more profit this year than they did last year? If that's what everyone expects then companies must figure out new ways to extract more profits. That means worker exploitation, poorer quality goods that need to be replaced and so on...OR coercing everyone into spending more money that they don't have.
I've always been a fan of the EU and Scandinavia where the focus is more on people rather than profits. Citizens in those regions receive: Lots of mandatory paid vacation time, guaranteed medical care, cleaner surroundings, healthy foods and much more that comes with culture that is centered around people over profits. Folks on the other side of the pond are among the happiest and most content in the world even though they have very high tax rates and the weather can be downright miserable for much of the year....AND they typically have far fewer possessions and smaller homes than we have. Here we get less and less vacation time, longer work weeks, an emphasis on more and bigger, unhealthy food everywhere, ridiculously expensive medical care (often of lesser quality) that bankrupts a fairly large number of citizens ....but I'll stop there. The majority of our problems stem from placing profits first over the well being of the citizenry.
Sadly, it doesn't appear that we will change our ways anytime soon since money controls everything here...even the legislative process. Will we ever get to the point where we aren't led to the mall in an effort to cure what ails us? When I tell people I'm a business owner who isn't trying to franchise or make enough to buy a boat or a huge house, I'm considered "unmotivated." Why would anyone be content to live in an 850SF apartment when my parents had a 2,000SF home? Yes....I know we're supposed to aspire to doing better than our parents did. Who says I'm not doing better if I'm happy with what I have? Is the size of my home and the quantity of shit it's filled with the only measure of what "doing better" is? We need to think hard about what is REALLY important....Having crap or having experiences? Would it be OK if we all said..."I'm good, I don't need anymore stuff." Would the earth split open? Probably not.
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| Would living small like this be so bad? Are there days you wish life could be this simple? Think about it. |
Friday, July 6, 2012
Sometimes I make myself laugh...
Its amazing how a long needed day off fails to make my mind rest. In fact, after today's exercise I considered that I might be in need of a few glasses of wine. A shot of something stronger perhaps....
Today I brought home a cool secondhand pair of tattered sneakers and a pair of speakers to add to my stereo system. Stuff. Coming in. This is how it happens. Did I need the speakers? I already have two, but heck, four sounds much, much better. After hooking them up I looked around at the spirals of wires now running across the floor where there had been neat hardwood mouldings.
Did I need the sneakers? No. I already have about 6 pairs of shoes. Now compared with Imelda Marcos, I'm doing just peachy, but I've never had that many pairs of shoes. I can't wear them all at once and granted, I need shoes for different occasions but I've never had three pairs of sneakers before. I let out a slow sigh.
To make myself feel better, I took stock of my place. First the bedroom. Two laundry hampers. Two hampers means I wait too long to do laundry. One goes. Armoire? Surely I must be able to weed out a few shirts from the collection that I don't wear. Four, in fact. Only have a couple of jackets...good there. I have, taking up a huge amount of space, two antique music boxes that would open up a lot of real estate if I got rid of them and their respective tables. This is where I run into problems. I have this appreciation for antique automata and I can't seem to get past telling myself "Not now...we'll revisit this another time." This time is no exception. Maybe I'll sell one.
Not much in the bathroom to get rid of unless I want to drip dry every time I get out of the shower and stop using deodorant. Onward to the living room. There's no question this room gets the most use and tends to accumulate things while I'm sleeping. "Hmm...where'd that extra remote come from? Wasn't there last night." The underpants gnomes must be moonlighting in the electronics industry.
My desk is always a disaster. I look at it and wonder how I've managed to keep a business afloat for 13 years without losing some critical piece of documentation under the mountain of scraps and notes. Cleaning my desk and disposing of unused files and other paper detritis always makes me feel better. I'll typically reward myself by going out for a meal, which isn't anything special since I'm a single guy living alone...I always go out for a meal.
Next...to the kitchen. I take stock of knives and utensils. I have china for four and utensils for eight and just enough kitchen gadgetry to keep me cooking without having to improvise too much. Flipping omelets using a fork because you don't have a spatula isn't my idea of a worthwhile minimalist trade-off. Plus it doesn't help with plate presentation. "Sorry folks, you have to eat your steak with a spoon because I only have one knife and its currently in the dishwasher." No. Not doing that. I did however, take note of the fact that the drawer that holds my storage containers hath overfloweth. I dove in. Several bottoms with no lids. Three lids with no bottoms. How the heck does that happen? Damn gnomes. Don't need six Chinese food containers. All the orphans and the extra containers go into the recycle.
Well....I feel a little better. Where shall I eat?
Today I brought home a cool secondhand pair of tattered sneakers and a pair of speakers to add to my stereo system. Stuff. Coming in. This is how it happens. Did I need the speakers? I already have two, but heck, four sounds much, much better. After hooking them up I looked around at the spirals of wires now running across the floor where there had been neat hardwood mouldings.
Did I need the sneakers? No. I already have about 6 pairs of shoes. Now compared with Imelda Marcos, I'm doing just peachy, but I've never had that many pairs of shoes. I can't wear them all at once and granted, I need shoes for different occasions but I've never had three pairs of sneakers before. I let out a slow sigh.
To make myself feel better, I took stock of my place. First the bedroom. Two laundry hampers. Two hampers means I wait too long to do laundry. One goes. Armoire? Surely I must be able to weed out a few shirts from the collection that I don't wear. Four, in fact. Only have a couple of jackets...good there. I have, taking up a huge amount of space, two antique music boxes that would open up a lot of real estate if I got rid of them and their respective tables. This is where I run into problems. I have this appreciation for antique automata and I can't seem to get past telling myself "Not now...we'll revisit this another time." This time is no exception. Maybe I'll sell one.
Not much in the bathroom to get rid of unless I want to drip dry every time I get out of the shower and stop using deodorant. Onward to the living room. There's no question this room gets the most use and tends to accumulate things while I'm sleeping. "Hmm...where'd that extra remote come from? Wasn't there last night." The underpants gnomes must be moonlighting in the electronics industry.
My desk is always a disaster. I look at it and wonder how I've managed to keep a business afloat for 13 years without losing some critical piece of documentation under the mountain of scraps and notes. Cleaning my desk and disposing of unused files and other paper detritis always makes me feel better. I'll typically reward myself by going out for a meal, which isn't anything special since I'm a single guy living alone...I always go out for a meal.
Next...to the kitchen. I take stock of knives and utensils. I have china for four and utensils for eight and just enough kitchen gadgetry to keep me cooking without having to improvise too much. Flipping omelets using a fork because you don't have a spatula isn't my idea of a worthwhile minimalist trade-off. Plus it doesn't help with plate presentation. "Sorry folks, you have to eat your steak with a spoon because I only have one knife and its currently in the dishwasher." No. Not doing that. I did however, take note of the fact that the drawer that holds my storage containers hath overfloweth. I dove in. Several bottoms with no lids. Three lids with no bottoms. How the heck does that happen? Damn gnomes. Don't need six Chinese food containers. All the orphans and the extra containers go into the recycle.
Well....I feel a little better. Where shall I eat?
 |
| I should be glad it isn't this bad. I can at least see the bottom of mine. |
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
For Everything, Apparently There's Visa!
"That'll be $2.47," the cashier said. The thirty-something woman who looked like she had just finished an aerobics class fumbled through her oversized shoulder bag and pulled out a credit card. The cashier didn't even flinch as she processed the transaction. I thought to myself..."Lady, you don't have three lousy bucks in that gargantuan bag?!" Apparently nobody carries cash anymore. Life does, in fact, take Visa.
Not so long ago, using plastic for a $2.47 transaction would have been looked upon with disdain. Store managers would be summoned and fingers would wag. Now its no big deal. Cash is passe.
The folks at MC and Visa have achieved their goal of making card use so ubiquitous, so commonplace that nobody gives it a second thought. Its a super deal for the card companies who double dip from consumers and retailers alike on the same transaction. The whole idea is to make spending and purchases easy. Ridiculously easy.
If we rewind a few years, we can see what happened when it became ridiculously easy to get a mortgage. Buying a $650,000 home on a $20,000 income was no problem. Through the process all the players took their cut and looked the other way. We see where that got us.
Thankfully, consumers have been holding back on big purchases and reducing credit card debt...a little. Personally, I despise credit cards but many aspects of American life don't function well without one. If I had no credit card I couldn't rent a car, book a hotel, buy plane tickets, purchase anything online or over the phone, ....and the list goes on. So I have a credit card....ONE credit card. I don't need another one.
The big problem I see with credit cards is that they're too easy to use and nobody warns you if you're spending too much. No alarms, no sirens, no text messages...just swipe and be on your merry way...until its too late. A non-credit card transaction goes like this...."Boy, I'd really like that new TV. The tag says it's $600. Hmm, I have a gum wrapper, half a movie ticket and $38 bucks in my wallet. Guess I can't buy it." End of story. If you have a credit card..."I really DESERVE that TV. I'm gonna go for it! I'll just put it on my card." It isn't until three weeks later after you've been watching everything in glorious high def that the bill comes in. "Aw, snap! I don't get paid for two weeks. I'll just pay the minimum for now." Curtain rises....enter the accrued-interest-on-average-daily-balance fairy....
Although credit cards were around when I was young, society encouraged more of a cash-and-carry policy. If you didn't have the money, you didn't buy it. Even if you did have the money, it wasn't uncommon to pull out your wad and count off the bills required to finalize the transaction. If the proposed post-purchase cash wad was now too small, the potential purchase might be shelved. The counting of the cash provided us a reminder...a reference point to truly measure the cost of a purchase. Now, a purchase is just a card and a signature. There's no reference point....no pile of currency to be handed over. Be the purchase for $2 or $2,000, there's only the card. Visa wants it that way.
When I go to restaurant with friends, I screw everything up. The cash underneath the four credit cards is always mine. I count it out and I'm done. No paperwork or bills to contend with later. My friends ask "Why are you paying cash?" It's as if cash is now only used for special occasions....like trips to the strip club or playing three-card-monty on the street. Wouldn't want to use it all up, would I? I'd have none left for debauched activities. Sophisticated grown-ups use credit cards...right? I guess that's where we're headed. Using cash makes me feel like a gangster anyway. "Don worree'bout it yooz guys. I got plenty a cash." The only thing that would make that statement sound better is if I had a big fat Cohiba clenched between my teeth when I said it. Seriously, though....cash isn't all that bad.
One recent client of ours had a Home Shopping Network addiction. We estimated she'd spent nearly $50,000 on the stuff she saw on TV and she wasn't rich. Let's change the scenario....Let's say she had the contents of her bank account neatly laid out on the coffee table in piles of currency and every time she decided to buy something that was on the TV she had to lean forward, count out the bills corresponding to the amount of the purchase and hand it over to someone. What are the odds there'd be two full storage units of unopened HSN stuff and an empty bank account?
I rest my case.
Not so long ago, using plastic for a $2.47 transaction would have been looked upon with disdain. Store managers would be summoned and fingers would wag. Now its no big deal. Cash is passe.
The folks at MC and Visa have achieved their goal of making card use so ubiquitous, so commonplace that nobody gives it a second thought. Its a super deal for the card companies who double dip from consumers and retailers alike on the same transaction. The whole idea is to make spending and purchases easy. Ridiculously easy.
If we rewind a few years, we can see what happened when it became ridiculously easy to get a mortgage. Buying a $650,000 home on a $20,000 income was no problem. Through the process all the players took their cut and looked the other way. We see where that got us.
Thankfully, consumers have been holding back on big purchases and reducing credit card debt...a little. Personally, I despise credit cards but many aspects of American life don't function well without one. If I had no credit card I couldn't rent a car, book a hotel, buy plane tickets, purchase anything online or over the phone, ....and the list goes on. So I have a credit card....ONE credit card. I don't need another one.
The big problem I see with credit cards is that they're too easy to use and nobody warns you if you're spending too much. No alarms, no sirens, no text messages...just swipe and be on your merry way...until its too late. A non-credit card transaction goes like this...."Boy, I'd really like that new TV. The tag says it's $600. Hmm, I have a gum wrapper, half a movie ticket and $38 bucks in my wallet. Guess I can't buy it." End of story. If you have a credit card..."I really DESERVE that TV. I'm gonna go for it! I'll just put it on my card." It isn't until three weeks later after you've been watching everything in glorious high def that the bill comes in. "Aw, snap! I don't get paid for two weeks. I'll just pay the minimum for now." Curtain rises....enter the accrued-interest-on-average-daily-balance fairy....
Although credit cards were around when I was young, society encouraged more of a cash-and-carry policy. If you didn't have the money, you didn't buy it. Even if you did have the money, it wasn't uncommon to pull out your wad and count off the bills required to finalize the transaction. If the proposed post-purchase cash wad was now too small, the potential purchase might be shelved. The counting of the cash provided us a reminder...a reference point to truly measure the cost of a purchase. Now, a purchase is just a card and a signature. There's no reference point....no pile of currency to be handed over. Be the purchase for $2 or $2,000, there's only the card. Visa wants it that way.
When I go to restaurant with friends, I screw everything up. The cash underneath the four credit cards is always mine. I count it out and I'm done. No paperwork or bills to contend with later. My friends ask "Why are you paying cash?" It's as if cash is now only used for special occasions....like trips to the strip club or playing three-card-monty on the street. Wouldn't want to use it all up, would I? I'd have none left for debauched activities. Sophisticated grown-ups use credit cards...right? I guess that's where we're headed. Using cash makes me feel like a gangster anyway. "Don worree'bout it yooz guys. I got plenty a cash." The only thing that would make that statement sound better is if I had a big fat Cohiba clenched between my teeth when I said it. Seriously, though....cash isn't all that bad.
One recent client of ours had a Home Shopping Network addiction. We estimated she'd spent nearly $50,000 on the stuff she saw on TV and she wasn't rich. Let's change the scenario....Let's say she had the contents of her bank account neatly laid out on the coffee table in piles of currency and every time she decided to buy something that was on the TV she had to lean forward, count out the bills corresponding to the amount of the purchase and hand it over to someone. What are the odds there'd be two full storage units of unopened HSN stuff and an empty bank account?
I rest my case.
 |
| Oops! Maybe I DIDN'T need that _____ <--- Insert frivolous purchase here. |
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Paralysis
It's been one of those days. A day where I get to see some of the harsh realities of people's lives. Sadly, some of these realities are largely preventable.
We'll call her Lori. I could hear the stress in her voice over the phone. She freely admitted that she was calling me because I was her last hope to make some desperately needed money.
I've received these calls before and the consultation isn't always pleasant.
I pulled up to the smallish house...the lawn hadn't been tended to in some time. The foreclosure notice on the door was wrinkled and faded, having been tacked to the door for months. Underneath the body of the notice, the occupant scrawled "I still live here. Please call me."
I'm a solutions kinda guy. If there's a way to solve a problem in a way that works out economically for everyone, I can usually figure it out. Today that wasn't going to happen.
Lori showed me the interior of her home. It was neat and well cared for... in stark contrast to the exterior. She was visibly rattled...fully aware that the sheriff could arrive at any moment to evict her. She called me to remove some belongings and sell them at auction with the hope that I could solve two problems... money and an inability to move large items from the house. Unfortunately, the items she showed me were of little value and were hardly worth moving. Seems her mom had a different take on the value of these items and stressed that she "needed" to get a certain amount for them. My response was, "Not on this planet." It wasn't what she wanted to hear. I explained the simple economics of demand and changing tastes and that I can't control what the general public desires or doesn't desire.
"But it MUST be worth more than that! I'll just keep it then because I just CAN'T tell my mother that all this isn't worth what she thinks it's worth. I just CAN'T." In fact, what she was presenting to me for sale was only a small portion of what was in the house. The rest of the (much more salable) items all had a lot of sentimental value. There was a trunk that belonged to her deceased husband, a chest that was her grandmother's...and so on. She couldn't sell any of those items and refused to sell any of the "junk" if we couldn't get what her mother said she should get for it. Upon making these statements, she broke down, curled up on the sofa and cried. Some days, I don't like my job very much.
I took a deep breath and prepared to explain to her the true gravity of her situation. I explained that I understood about sentimental value, but that she intended to tote around items that reminded her of her sad past. "Do you want to look forwards, or back?" I asked her. "How are you going to move them?" Then I looked right at her and asked...."If you stood out on the lawn with your back to this house and in an instant it all disappeared, would you feel relief?" She didn't hesitate to say "YES."
The reality was that she had no way to move any of the contents of the home. She had no job and barely enough money to eat and at any moment she could be forcibly removed from her home which the bank had foreclosed upon some months earlier. Odds were that she was going to lose everything when the bank changed the locks and the law escorted her from the property. I knew that, but she didn't seem to understand that impending bit of reality. Through the sobbing and the hard luck stories she continued to cling to and be paralyzed by the belongings that surrounded her. If she couldn't accept reality, I couldn't help her. Through her emotional breakdown I could hear her say that she "couldn't live like this anymore" and that "nobody would help her."
It was hard to witness and sadly, I enter into just such a scene or variations thereof on a regular basis now. I see the ravaged lives that recession causes, but in my experience much of it is preventable. If we could just get past the attachment to things...that desire for more and bigger. I know my view is a jaded one and I couldn't help but think this poor girl was hanging onto things for comfort as everything around her fell apart. I get it. My last words to her were "Lori....they're just things....let them go. You don't have a choice."
I realize those words could be interpreted as self-serving, but they weren't. I really wanted her to see the world for just a moment through the eyes of someone who deals with this sort of thing almost daily. Lori looked up at me, attempting to compose herself, and said...slowly..."This stuff is weighing me down. It's keeping me from moving on and I don't know what to do about it." She wasn't hearing me at all and I felt powerless to do anything about it. She murmured something about going back to Spain and I told her that she should do just that. I apologized for not being able to help her, wished her good luck and before I left, I heard her say "You were my last shot. I thought for sure you could help me. I got all this stuff together for you."
One of the things I learned quickly is that in business, you NEVER, EVER let emotions dictate business decisions. Lori was paralyzed. I couldn't help her. Chances are that by the time she understood about letting things go, it would be too late.
Enjoy Spain, Lori. Start again. Don't get attached to things. That goes for everyone.
We'll call her Lori. I could hear the stress in her voice over the phone. She freely admitted that she was calling me because I was her last hope to make some desperately needed money.
I've received these calls before and the consultation isn't always pleasant.
I pulled up to the smallish house...the lawn hadn't been tended to in some time. The foreclosure notice on the door was wrinkled and faded, having been tacked to the door for months. Underneath the body of the notice, the occupant scrawled "I still live here. Please call me."
I'm a solutions kinda guy. If there's a way to solve a problem in a way that works out economically for everyone, I can usually figure it out. Today that wasn't going to happen.
Lori showed me the interior of her home. It was neat and well cared for... in stark contrast to the exterior. She was visibly rattled...fully aware that the sheriff could arrive at any moment to evict her. She called me to remove some belongings and sell them at auction with the hope that I could solve two problems... money and an inability to move large items from the house. Unfortunately, the items she showed me were of little value and were hardly worth moving. Seems her mom had a different take on the value of these items and stressed that she "needed" to get a certain amount for them. My response was, "Not on this planet." It wasn't what she wanted to hear. I explained the simple economics of demand and changing tastes and that I can't control what the general public desires or doesn't desire.
"But it MUST be worth more than that! I'll just keep it then because I just CAN'T tell my mother that all this isn't worth what she thinks it's worth. I just CAN'T." In fact, what she was presenting to me for sale was only a small portion of what was in the house. The rest of the (much more salable) items all had a lot of sentimental value. There was a trunk that belonged to her deceased husband, a chest that was her grandmother's...and so on. She couldn't sell any of those items and refused to sell any of the "junk" if we couldn't get what her mother said she should get for it. Upon making these statements, she broke down, curled up on the sofa and cried. Some days, I don't like my job very much.
I took a deep breath and prepared to explain to her the true gravity of her situation. I explained that I understood about sentimental value, but that she intended to tote around items that reminded her of her sad past. "Do you want to look forwards, or back?" I asked her. "How are you going to move them?" Then I looked right at her and asked...."If you stood out on the lawn with your back to this house and in an instant it all disappeared, would you feel relief?" She didn't hesitate to say "YES."
The reality was that she had no way to move any of the contents of the home. She had no job and barely enough money to eat and at any moment she could be forcibly removed from her home which the bank had foreclosed upon some months earlier. Odds were that she was going to lose everything when the bank changed the locks and the law escorted her from the property. I knew that, but she didn't seem to understand that impending bit of reality. Through the sobbing and the hard luck stories she continued to cling to and be paralyzed by the belongings that surrounded her. If she couldn't accept reality, I couldn't help her. Through her emotional breakdown I could hear her say that she "couldn't live like this anymore" and that "nobody would help her."
It was hard to witness and sadly, I enter into just such a scene or variations thereof on a regular basis now. I see the ravaged lives that recession causes, but in my experience much of it is preventable. If we could just get past the attachment to things...that desire for more and bigger. I know my view is a jaded one and I couldn't help but think this poor girl was hanging onto things for comfort as everything around her fell apart. I get it. My last words to her were "Lori....they're just things....let them go. You don't have a choice."
I realize those words could be interpreted as self-serving, but they weren't. I really wanted her to see the world for just a moment through the eyes of someone who deals with this sort of thing almost daily. Lori looked up at me, attempting to compose herself, and said...slowly..."This stuff is weighing me down. It's keeping me from moving on and I don't know what to do about it." She wasn't hearing me at all and I felt powerless to do anything about it. She murmured something about going back to Spain and I told her that she should do just that. I apologized for not being able to help her, wished her good luck and before I left, I heard her say "You were my last shot. I thought for sure you could help me. I got all this stuff together for you."
One of the things I learned quickly is that in business, you NEVER, EVER let emotions dictate business decisions. Lori was paralyzed. I couldn't help her. Chances are that by the time she understood about letting things go, it would be too late.
Enjoy Spain, Lori. Start again. Don't get attached to things. That goes for everyone.
 |
| Are a few pieces of furniture worth this sort of anguish? |
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Economic Default
Nope. Not talking about Greece's bond woes. The term actually has another meaning....It's the process by which someone who comes into a lot of money blows it all and returns to the economic condition they started out at. They return to their "economic default," or the economic level they tend to gravitate towards. It is often used to describe lottery winners, lawsuit winners and those who simply and luckily inherit a ton of money but have no idea how to manage it.
Why bring it up here? Because part of the process that often brings people from rags to riches to rags has to do with folks not thinking about the costs of keeping large assets. Its easy to think that if I end up with a million dollars on my doorstep, I could buy a $750,000 house for cash and still have a quarter mil lying around. A lot of people think this way, especially since those at the lower end of the economic ladder tend to pay cash for things out of necessity. Here's the problem though....That $750,000 house with no mortgage still costs a ton to hold onto. A house like that in a good neighborhood will be subject to some pretty hefty property taxes and will cost a fortune to insure. Then comes the electric and other utilities required to heat and cool it. There'll be yard maintenance and anything that breaks will cost an arm and a leg to replace. The ongoing expenses will rapidly eat up the remaining chunk of change in the bank. Multiply this scenario when there are cars, boats, and other expensive toys involved. It's not the stuff that's the problem, its the cost to keep the stuff.
Once the maintenance costs exhaust the remaining money, a downward spiral begins whereby items need to be sold to satisfy the costs on the remaining items and so on until everything is gone and we're back to the "economic default." Of course it doesn't always work that way. Some people are savvy enough to handle large sums of money even if they have never seen more than $500 in one place, but many aren't.
So what's my point? It's easy to get starry eyed about a boat or a larger home or perhaps a few personal watercraft...especially if there's a bunch of cash sitting around. It just happened to me. I had the opportunity to buy a great urban condo in a class A location. I figured since it was a condo, I wouldn't have to mess with maintenance...but someone has to do it and it costs money. Last I checked, that monthly cost was called "common area maintenance," and for condos downtown in historic buildings the charges can be steep and can increase without notice. There are still property taxes involved and since there's no street parking, I'd have to buy or rent a spot in the nearby parking deck. All fine and dandy until I come home with 10 bags of groceries in the pouring rain and need to walk a block and a half before I climb four flights of steps. Even at a bargain price, the place will cost more than my very cool apartment when I add in all expenses.
So why would I buy the place? Because somewhere in the recesses of my mind, it would be cool to own it. That's it. No numbers come into play. Not until I was uttering expletives at my silliness as I'm writing checks adding up to more than I was paying for something that was more convenient, cared for at no expense to me and had free repair service if something broke. Yup...I rained all over my own parade. My very cool apartment will have to do. And my advice to the lottery winners? Invest the after tax winnings and live off the interest. Go see the world and skip the big house and fancy car...Those things won't make you happy. Nor will a cool downtown condo.
Why bring it up here? Because part of the process that often brings people from rags to riches to rags has to do with folks not thinking about the costs of keeping large assets. Its easy to think that if I end up with a million dollars on my doorstep, I could buy a $750,000 house for cash and still have a quarter mil lying around. A lot of people think this way, especially since those at the lower end of the economic ladder tend to pay cash for things out of necessity. Here's the problem though....That $750,000 house with no mortgage still costs a ton to hold onto. A house like that in a good neighborhood will be subject to some pretty hefty property taxes and will cost a fortune to insure. Then comes the electric and other utilities required to heat and cool it. There'll be yard maintenance and anything that breaks will cost an arm and a leg to replace. The ongoing expenses will rapidly eat up the remaining chunk of change in the bank. Multiply this scenario when there are cars, boats, and other expensive toys involved. It's not the stuff that's the problem, its the cost to keep the stuff.
Once the maintenance costs exhaust the remaining money, a downward spiral begins whereby items need to be sold to satisfy the costs on the remaining items and so on until everything is gone and we're back to the "economic default." Of course it doesn't always work that way. Some people are savvy enough to handle large sums of money even if they have never seen more than $500 in one place, but many aren't.
So what's my point? It's easy to get starry eyed about a boat or a larger home or perhaps a few personal watercraft...especially if there's a bunch of cash sitting around. It just happened to me. I had the opportunity to buy a great urban condo in a class A location. I figured since it was a condo, I wouldn't have to mess with maintenance...but someone has to do it and it costs money. Last I checked, that monthly cost was called "common area maintenance," and for condos downtown in historic buildings the charges can be steep and can increase without notice. There are still property taxes involved and since there's no street parking, I'd have to buy or rent a spot in the nearby parking deck. All fine and dandy until I come home with 10 bags of groceries in the pouring rain and need to walk a block and a half before I climb four flights of steps. Even at a bargain price, the place will cost more than my very cool apartment when I add in all expenses.
So why would I buy the place? Because somewhere in the recesses of my mind, it would be cool to own it. That's it. No numbers come into play. Not until I was uttering expletives at my silliness as I'm writing checks adding up to more than I was paying for something that was more convenient, cared for at no expense to me and had free repair service if something broke. Yup...I rained all over my own parade. My very cool apartment will have to do. And my advice to the lottery winners? Invest the after tax winnings and live off the interest. Go see the world and skip the big house and fancy car...Those things won't make you happy. Nor will a cool downtown condo.
 |
| So tempting. I want it. I just want it. I can afford it. Waaaaah. |
Sunday, March 11, 2012
A week in the life....
Observations and rantings of a minimalist....
- While engaging in an afternoon of mindless cartoon viewing with my daughter, I noticed that toy companies are attempting to extol the virtues of tinier and tinier toys. All these teeny weenie figures! I often lose my full size truck in the mall....er...airport parking lot, so how can little kids be expected to keep track of vitamin sized toys? You can collect (hoard) all 590 of them! Microscope not included.
- Went to my daughter's school talent show. Saw 6 year olds dancing to "Material Girl" swinging around shopping bags on stage. Ah....get 'em while they're young.
- Had lunch with some friends who admitted they enjoy Antiques Roadshow and Storage Wars. I paused, thinking about how AR has managed to convince nearly everyone that the stuff in grandpa's attic is worth far more than it actually is. Trust me folks, the odds are slim that the old parchment document you found is a lost copy of the Declaration of Independence. It looks old because that's how it was manufactured to look. As for that little word at the lower bottom? It says "Copy." Missed that one 'eh? As for Storage Wars....it took some convincing but I think I've finally got them to understand that you don't typically find a Delorean behind some old computer monitors and a ratty 1960's sleeper sofa. Oh...and a camera crew just happened to be there.
- Actually watched an episode of Hoarders - Buried Alive...just to see... Now I understand why people slow down for an accident. I ended up watching four episodes. I'm so ashamed. Truthfully though, watching it is a good way to entice anyone to get rid of stuff, plus it keeps the weight off. I was nauseous just thinking about that much junk....and could you imagine the smell.....? Not interested in eating for awhile.
- So Apple came out with an iPad 3....That pretty much makes the iPad 1 a boat anchor worth about 50 bucks. Time elapsed from cutting edge to obsolescence:...about 18 months. My grandmother was proud that she had her sewing machine since 1944. Now nothing makes it through more than 6 seasons before its garbage. Way back in the day...it was only junk when it stopped working...and that condition only occurred after multiple repair attempts with tape, screws, paper clips and odd pieces of metal. "Junk" meant dead, unfixable, absolutely no hope for resurrection. Even then, it might be stashed or salvaged in case the remaining usable parts could be used on another item that needed repair. Not anymore. Even if it works fine, but is outdated, its junk. Especially if it uses software that is "no longer supported." Operational ability has nothing to do with it. The manufacturer decides when it needs to be pitched. What's wrong with that plan?
- My daughter came to work with me and observed that I was using a (quite dependable) Okidata dot-matrix printer. "What's THAT?!!!" she asked incredulously...as if she we're looking at a prehistoric dinosaur skeleton. I had to explain to her that a dot-matrix printer was from before she was born! "Wow...that's totally ancient!" I rolled my eyes.
- An "A" for effort.....I had two people this past week attempt to sell me coins that are currently in circulation. Yes, those gold dollars look cool and different, but....they aren't real gold AND you can currently trade them anywhere for exactly one dollar's worth of goods. Why are you looking at me strangely when I tell you I won't give you $5 each for them? Yes....you THOUGHT they might be worth something...and they are. One dollar. Same goes for state quarters. They are absolutely worth something. Twenty five cents. Gotta love the spirit of anyone who wants to profit off pocket change.
- The Gift of Prophecy.....I can predict with pretty good certainty that your house will have one of these: A George Foreman Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine or some variant of it.... If you like to fish, you will have a Big Mouth Billy Bass...that plastic mounted fish that sings when you press a button. It's in the garage or attic currently. If you don't have one, you used to. Am I right?
- My daughter is still playing Animal Jam. She now owns an entire city but still hasn't achieved "Epic Den" status. It is strangely, always, just beyond reach. Hmmm.
Ah...another week...just when I thought I had seen everything, another Monday looms around the corner with the promise of new, exciting things for me to write about. Have a great week!
- While engaging in an afternoon of mindless cartoon viewing with my daughter, I noticed that toy companies are attempting to extol the virtues of tinier and tinier toys. All these teeny weenie figures! I often lose my full size truck in the mall....er...airport parking lot, so how can little kids be expected to keep track of vitamin sized toys? You can collect (hoard) all 590 of them! Microscope not included.
- Went to my daughter's school talent show. Saw 6 year olds dancing to "Material Girl" swinging around shopping bags on stage. Ah....get 'em while they're young.
- Had lunch with some friends who admitted they enjoy Antiques Roadshow and Storage Wars. I paused, thinking about how AR has managed to convince nearly everyone that the stuff in grandpa's attic is worth far more than it actually is. Trust me folks, the odds are slim that the old parchment document you found is a lost copy of the Declaration of Independence. It looks old because that's how it was manufactured to look. As for that little word at the lower bottom? It says "Copy." Missed that one 'eh? As for Storage Wars....it took some convincing but I think I've finally got them to understand that you don't typically find a Delorean behind some old computer monitors and a ratty 1960's sleeper sofa. Oh...and a camera crew just happened to be there.
- Actually watched an episode of Hoarders - Buried Alive...just to see... Now I understand why people slow down for an accident. I ended up watching four episodes. I'm so ashamed. Truthfully though, watching it is a good way to entice anyone to get rid of stuff, plus it keeps the weight off. I was nauseous just thinking about that much junk....and could you imagine the smell.....? Not interested in eating for awhile.
- So Apple came out with an iPad 3....That pretty much makes the iPad 1 a boat anchor worth about 50 bucks. Time elapsed from cutting edge to obsolescence:...about 18 months. My grandmother was proud that she had her sewing machine since 1944. Now nothing makes it through more than 6 seasons before its garbage. Way back in the day...it was only junk when it stopped working...and that condition only occurred after multiple repair attempts with tape, screws, paper clips and odd pieces of metal. "Junk" meant dead, unfixable, absolutely no hope for resurrection. Even then, it might be stashed or salvaged in case the remaining usable parts could be used on another item that needed repair. Not anymore. Even if it works fine, but is outdated, its junk. Especially if it uses software that is "no longer supported." Operational ability has nothing to do with it. The manufacturer decides when it needs to be pitched. What's wrong with that plan?
- My daughter came to work with me and observed that I was using a (quite dependable) Okidata dot-matrix printer. "What's THAT?!!!" she asked incredulously...as if she we're looking at a prehistoric dinosaur skeleton. I had to explain to her that a dot-matrix printer was from before she was born! "Wow...that's totally ancient!" I rolled my eyes.
- An "A" for effort.....I had two people this past week attempt to sell me coins that are currently in circulation. Yes, those gold dollars look cool and different, but....they aren't real gold AND you can currently trade them anywhere for exactly one dollar's worth of goods. Why are you looking at me strangely when I tell you I won't give you $5 each for them? Yes....you THOUGHT they might be worth something...and they are. One dollar. Same goes for state quarters. They are absolutely worth something. Twenty five cents. Gotta love the spirit of anyone who wants to profit off pocket change.
- The Gift of Prophecy.....I can predict with pretty good certainty that your house will have one of these: A George Foreman Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine or some variant of it.... If you like to fish, you will have a Big Mouth Billy Bass...that plastic mounted fish that sings when you press a button. It's in the garage or attic currently. If you don't have one, you used to. Am I right?
- My daughter is still playing Animal Jam. She now owns an entire city but still hasn't achieved "Epic Den" status. It is strangely, always, just beyond reach. Hmmm.
Ah...another week...just when I thought I had seen everything, another Monday looms around the corner with the promise of new, exciting things for me to write about. Have a great week!
 |
| We are liiiiving in a Material World and I am a Material Girl!!!! |
Sunday, February 26, 2012
There's No Escape for the Young
My daughter has been ruined. My words mean nothing.
I noticed she's been glued to her laptop for the last several weeks....
I'm fully aware that her tech acumen readily outstrips mine and she regularly makes me look like a buffoon when it comes to computer issues. "Dad, you need to reboot, go into msconfig and edit your startup items...." she'd say as I stared blankly at an unusual error message on my screen. I'd look up...reminding myself that she was still just ten years old. This is to be expected since when I was her age, my exposure to technology was limited to ownership of a digital watch that only told the time and a sandwich sized calculator that could only add and subtract. The world was different back then.
Honestly, I had this great fear that she was perhaps hacking into the Bank of America computers....That perhaps any day now a pair of men in pressed suits, sunglasses and earpieces would knock on my door and ask to speak to my daughter for a few minutes about some internet irregularity that was traced back to our house.... I warily slunk over and asked..."So....whatcha doing?"
"I'm on Animal Jam...." she replied smugly.
I had not the foggiest idea of what it was...so I sat down and watched her gaudily clad unicorn-like fantasy creature galloping around a tropical island, magical pet frog in tow.
"This is my den...." she added as she proceeded to trot through what appeared to be a huge virtual multi-level expanse of a mansion. It had amenities I could only dream of...A waterfall in the living room, an indoor pool, a fully stocked bar, 70 inch LCD TV...there was a banquet table complete with a royal feast, some huge glowing one-of-a-kind icon or shrine or something that she had surrounded with multicolored swiveling barstools....In another place there were what appeared to be hundreds of virtual stuffed animals...no less than 30 alligators of different colors all neatly lined up...panda's, horses, armadillos. The walls were covered with tchochkes...flags, mirrors, sconces, paintings....everything.
I was horrified. "You're a HOARDER?...You're Hoarding in cyberspace???!!!" I snorted while cupping my head in my hands. My failure as a parent was complete. I felt like sobbing...All those words about materialism and she does this??? If she couldn't have everything she wanted in the real world, I guess there was always cyberspace where she didn't have to worry about whether or not daddy would say yes...
As I sat there in shock, she showed me all of her acquisitions, large and small. "I want to be on Epic Dens, but I need more stuff" she casually mentioned... There's a virtual stuff acquisition contest????!!! Animal Jam, my ass! This should be called "Keeping up with the Virtual Joneses." or "Cyber Materialist Spoiled Princess.." My mind was out of control. Still horrified, I queried..."Why do you need 30 alligators?"
"I won them. Besides dad, it's just the internet." She rolled her eyes in normal prepubescent female fashion.
I didn't know what to say. She had a point, but the mere thought of an online game pitting kids against each other to see who acquire the most crap makes me shiver. How can that not somehow translate into real life behavior? I found myself asking the usual questions.... "What are you going to do with 30 alligators?" "Why not 50, or 1,000 alligators? When does it stop?" My daughter wrinkled her face in disgust. "Dad! It's just a game!!!" I laughed. She was right. But she lined up the alligators so nicely...like soldiers. It was cute....but still horrifying. At least she didn't approach me each morning asking for my credit card number so she could buy more virtual-currency with which she would gamble with the hopes of winning more alligators. That would have put me into orbit.
As I'm typing, she has won more cyber-gem currency and is asking me what she should do with it? She wants a full sized castle. I agree, but note that maybe it would be better to save up, take a trip somewhere and move into a smaller castle that's easier to maintain. Then I remembered...you don't have to maintain a virtual castle. It just shows up when she clicks on the website.
In cyberspace, she can have all the alligators she wants and won't have to worry about where to store them. I certainly won't be tripping over them in the living room. I should be thankful. I think.
I noticed she's been glued to her laptop for the last several weeks....
I'm fully aware that her tech acumen readily outstrips mine and she regularly makes me look like a buffoon when it comes to computer issues. "Dad, you need to reboot, go into msconfig and edit your startup items...." she'd say as I stared blankly at an unusual error message on my screen. I'd look up...reminding myself that she was still just ten years old. This is to be expected since when I was her age, my exposure to technology was limited to ownership of a digital watch that only told the time and a sandwich sized calculator that could only add and subtract. The world was different back then.
Honestly, I had this great fear that she was perhaps hacking into the Bank of America computers....That perhaps any day now a pair of men in pressed suits, sunglasses and earpieces would knock on my door and ask to speak to my daughter for a few minutes about some internet irregularity that was traced back to our house.... I warily slunk over and asked..."So....whatcha doing?"
"I'm on Animal Jam...." she replied smugly.
I had not the foggiest idea of what it was...so I sat down and watched her gaudily clad unicorn-like fantasy creature galloping around a tropical island, magical pet frog in tow.
"This is my den...." she added as she proceeded to trot through what appeared to be a huge virtual multi-level expanse of a mansion. It had amenities I could only dream of...A waterfall in the living room, an indoor pool, a fully stocked bar, 70 inch LCD TV...there was a banquet table complete with a royal feast, some huge glowing one-of-a-kind icon or shrine or something that she had surrounded with multicolored swiveling barstools....In another place there were what appeared to be hundreds of virtual stuffed animals...no less than 30 alligators of different colors all neatly lined up...panda's, horses, armadillos. The walls were covered with tchochkes...flags, mirrors, sconces, paintings....everything.
I was horrified. "You're a HOARDER?...You're Hoarding in cyberspace???!!!" I snorted while cupping my head in my hands. My failure as a parent was complete. I felt like sobbing...All those words about materialism and she does this??? If she couldn't have everything she wanted in the real world, I guess there was always cyberspace where she didn't have to worry about whether or not daddy would say yes...
As I sat there in shock, she showed me all of her acquisitions, large and small. "I want to be on Epic Dens, but I need more stuff" she casually mentioned... There's a virtual stuff acquisition contest????!!! Animal Jam, my ass! This should be called "Keeping up with the Virtual Joneses." or "Cyber Materialist Spoiled Princess.." My mind was out of control. Still horrified, I queried..."Why do you need 30 alligators?"
"I won them. Besides dad, it's just the internet." She rolled her eyes in normal prepubescent female fashion.
I didn't know what to say. She had a point, but the mere thought of an online game pitting kids against each other to see who acquire the most crap makes me shiver. How can that not somehow translate into real life behavior? I found myself asking the usual questions.... "What are you going to do with 30 alligators?" "Why not 50, or 1,000 alligators? When does it stop?" My daughter wrinkled her face in disgust. "Dad! It's just a game!!!" I laughed. She was right. But she lined up the alligators so nicely...like soldiers. It was cute....but still horrifying. At least she didn't approach me each morning asking for my credit card number so she could buy more virtual-currency with which she would gamble with the hopes of winning more alligators. That would have put me into orbit.
As I'm typing, she has won more cyber-gem currency and is asking me what she should do with it? She wants a full sized castle. I agree, but note that maybe it would be better to save up, take a trip somewhere and move into a smaller castle that's easier to maintain. Then I remembered...you don't have to maintain a virtual castle. It just shows up when she clicks on the website.
In cyberspace, she can have all the alligators she wants and won't have to worry about where to store them. I certainly won't be tripping over them in the living room. I should be thankful. I think.
 |
| If storage and practicality isn't an issue on the internet, should I worry? |
Monday, February 20, 2012
What's Hiding in Your Drawers?
Not in THOSE drawers. Besides that.
I hate drawers. Its too easy to stash crap in them. Knowing that, I've made a concerted effort to minimize the total amount of drawers in my place. No big cabinets. No dressers. No place to hide anything except for two small filing cabinets... for business and important stuff. As a result, if I end up with small items...like maybe a cool keychain, a roll of stamps, a couple of flash drives...I have to deal with them immediately. I end up walking around, looking like a human bobblehead trying to figure out where to stash the little buggers. I'm forced to deal with everything and make a decision about each item. Usually.
There's one small drawer next to my desk and despite my best efforts, it manages to fill up with doo-dads in about a week. USB cables, extra keys, a spare case for my phone, a checkbook cover...Darn it. Drawers are evil.
Yesterday, I glanced into one of my file drawers...it was full to overflowing with gosh-knows-what so I got out the shredder and went to work. Bills from 2004, account statements from accounts long ago closed, instruction manuals from items I no longer owned, passcodes to long-defunct websites. Amazing. I cleared out a full cubic foot of space.... That's a stack of paper a foot tall...not bad. I felt much lighter despite having eaten lunch just a few minutes earlier. New problem though.....I've got more drawer space to drop crap into! The only solution might be to get rid of the whole cabinet.
Sometimes when I clear out houses I have to sort through the junk drawers. Often the contents at the rear have physically merged with the wood of the drawer itself resulting in an odd conglomeration of materials typically held together by old disintegrated rubber bands. Archaeologists 5,000 years from now will have a field day trying to decipher what the pencil-staple-paperclip-eraser-bottle of whiteout-ketchup packet-thumbtack-melted rubber band object was used for.
I hate drawers. Its too easy to stash crap in them. Knowing that, I've made a concerted effort to minimize the total amount of drawers in my place. No big cabinets. No dressers. No place to hide anything except for two small filing cabinets... for business and important stuff. As a result, if I end up with small items...like maybe a cool keychain, a roll of stamps, a couple of flash drives...I have to deal with them immediately. I end up walking around, looking like a human bobblehead trying to figure out where to stash the little buggers. I'm forced to deal with everything and make a decision about each item. Usually.
There's one small drawer next to my desk and despite my best efforts, it manages to fill up with doo-dads in about a week. USB cables, extra keys, a spare case for my phone, a checkbook cover...Darn it. Drawers are evil.
Yesterday, I glanced into one of my file drawers...it was full to overflowing with gosh-knows-what so I got out the shredder and went to work. Bills from 2004, account statements from accounts long ago closed, instruction manuals from items I no longer owned, passcodes to long-defunct websites. Amazing. I cleared out a full cubic foot of space.... That's a stack of paper a foot tall...not bad. I felt much lighter despite having eaten lunch just a few minutes earlier. New problem though.....I've got more drawer space to drop crap into! The only solution might be to get rid of the whole cabinet.
Sometimes when I clear out houses I have to sort through the junk drawers. Often the contents at the rear have physically merged with the wood of the drawer itself resulting in an odd conglomeration of materials typically held together by old disintegrated rubber bands. Archaeologists 5,000 years from now will have a field day trying to decipher what the pencil-staple-paperclip-eraser-bottle of whiteout-ketchup packet-thumbtack-melted rubber band object was used for.
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| Cleaning it out isn't the solution. Get rid of the whole cabinet. |
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
The Ongoing Urge to Complicate Things
I've been doing well keeping things simple...until an urge hit me.
For those who don't already know, I'm a recovering real estate junkie. Give me a crappy looking house that smells terrible and some profit potential and I'm your bitch.
What I noticed is that with most projects I've tended to grow weary near the end. I was always anxious to jettison the current property, take the profit and move on. It rarely worked out as simply as that and I've been reminding myself about all the time /financial/ personal juggling that has to go on when I get involved with a property. Over the last few days, I've been muddling over a potentially tres chic project that would test my limits in more ways than one.
The property is in a premier location but has a host of issues, not the least of which is a potentially monumental expense down the road (in the form of an assessment.) The upside is ownership, future profit potential and possibly dwelling within a magnificent and historically significant space in a great spot. The place is tugging at me and I've needed to make the pro / con list.
The biggest con was that I would not be simplifying my life, but just the opposite. The place needs an enormous amount of work and there would be a constant outlay of money and opportunity costs. On paper the project has all the hallmarks of a money pit and the logical side of me has pretty much dismissed the whole shebang. But why is there such a desire to toss myself back into the grinder? I live in a great spot at what I consider to be reasonable cost. Am I bored....perhaps crazy? What about human nature causes me to be restless and not satisfied with what I have? These are things I must constantly grapple with and I suspect most people do the same in varying degrees. I have to remind myself what the goal is and that if I'm bored, I should get on the bike or go to the museum or walk on the beach....not buy a money, time and sanity sucking property.
For those who don't already know, I'm a recovering real estate junkie. Give me a crappy looking house that smells terrible and some profit potential and I'm your bitch.
What I noticed is that with most projects I've tended to grow weary near the end. I was always anxious to jettison the current property, take the profit and move on. It rarely worked out as simply as that and I've been reminding myself about all the time /financial/ personal juggling that has to go on when I get involved with a property. Over the last few days, I've been muddling over a potentially tres chic project that would test my limits in more ways than one.
The property is in a premier location but has a host of issues, not the least of which is a potentially monumental expense down the road (in the form of an assessment.) The upside is ownership, future profit potential and possibly dwelling within a magnificent and historically significant space in a great spot. The place is tugging at me and I've needed to make the pro / con list.
The biggest con was that I would not be simplifying my life, but just the opposite. The place needs an enormous amount of work and there would be a constant outlay of money and opportunity costs. On paper the project has all the hallmarks of a money pit and the logical side of me has pretty much dismissed the whole shebang. But why is there such a desire to toss myself back into the grinder? I live in a great spot at what I consider to be reasonable cost. Am I bored....perhaps crazy? What about human nature causes me to be restless and not satisfied with what I have? These are things I must constantly grapple with and I suspect most people do the same in varying degrees. I have to remind myself what the goal is and that if I'm bored, I should get on the bike or go to the museum or walk on the beach....not buy a money, time and sanity sucking property.
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| It's cute but....nothing I should be doing if I'm bored. |
Thursday, December 29, 2011
A week's insanity....
Some weeks are a firm reminder of why I chose to live with only a little....My job is to help people. It is a job I enjoy greatly but in many cases, there is little I can do.
Monday: I visit a large storage unit loaded with items of absolutely no market value...mildewed clothes, rusted pots and pans, broken furniture, Tupperware with no lids. This is one of four units that have nearly the same items. Gentleman had claimed "there are some really good things in there".... We check...not a chance. I recommend a bobcat and a dumpster. Four units times about the five years each has been a trash receptacle. That's a lot of rent...get out your calculator...
Tuesday: Visit a home whose interior defies description. My guess is that living conditions are far better in distant third world countries during a famine or infectious disease outbreak. I can't see the floor... it is covered with an odd conglomeration of old food, clothing, cat hair and ten thousand personal items. I see half a laptop, about a half dozen remotes, a chair leg....Anything that was of value has been used as a scratching post, a chew toy or is stained or broken. Looks like a year's worth of frat parties occurred and nobody bothered to clean up after each.....there's nothing salvageable of the five or so items they WANTED to sell. The seller's felt the other 9,995 items should be scraped off the floor, boxed and transported to their new home because they might need them....Sigh.
Thursday: Visit to a hoarder extraordinaire... A woman who has kept everything she ever bought for the last two decades. She is aware she has a problem, but seems powerless to rein it in. Just last week she spent over $3,000 on QVC. She has three large outbuildings filled with items, many of them never removed from the packaging. I have to explain that she has grossly overpaid for all the items and there is no hope she can recover an amount even close to the price she paid despite the claims on TV that these items are of "heirloom quality." Just not on this planet. She stares at me blankly. She doesn't understand why this is or that she has fallen victim to the band of thieves that hawk garbage on TV that can be purchased with only four easy payments plus processing and handling.
This is our culture....we are taught that the acquisition of things defines us, makes us worthy. In the end, it is acquisition that weighs us down and wastes our time and resources. I come home, still sneezing from cat dander and decades old dust and collapse on the sofa feeling utterly defeated. The "stuff" has won this week. It has silently infiltrated our homes and wedged itself firmly in our closets and outbuildings like some unseen squatter. It is not easily dislodged. Maybe next week.
Monday: I visit a large storage unit loaded with items of absolutely no market value...mildewed clothes, rusted pots and pans, broken furniture, Tupperware with no lids. This is one of four units that have nearly the same items. Gentleman had claimed "there are some really good things in there".... We check...not a chance. I recommend a bobcat and a dumpster. Four units times about the five years each has been a trash receptacle. That's a lot of rent...get out your calculator...
Tuesday: Visit a home whose interior defies description. My guess is that living conditions are far better in distant third world countries during a famine or infectious disease outbreak. I can't see the floor... it is covered with an odd conglomeration of old food, clothing, cat hair and ten thousand personal items. I see half a laptop, about a half dozen remotes, a chair leg....Anything that was of value has been used as a scratching post, a chew toy or is stained or broken. Looks like a year's worth of frat parties occurred and nobody bothered to clean up after each.....there's nothing salvageable of the five or so items they WANTED to sell. The seller's felt the other 9,995 items should be scraped off the floor, boxed and transported to their new home because they might need them....Sigh.
Thursday: Visit to a hoarder extraordinaire... A woman who has kept everything she ever bought for the last two decades. She is aware she has a problem, but seems powerless to rein it in. Just last week she spent over $3,000 on QVC. She has three large outbuildings filled with items, many of them never removed from the packaging. I have to explain that she has grossly overpaid for all the items and there is no hope she can recover an amount even close to the price she paid despite the claims on TV that these items are of "heirloom quality." Just not on this planet. She stares at me blankly. She doesn't understand why this is or that she has fallen victim to the band of thieves that hawk garbage on TV that can be purchased with only four easy payments plus processing and handling.
This is our culture....we are taught that the acquisition of things defines us, makes us worthy. In the end, it is acquisition that weighs us down and wastes our time and resources. I come home, still sneezing from cat dander and decades old dust and collapse on the sofa feeling utterly defeated. The "stuff" has won this week. It has silently infiltrated our homes and wedged itself firmly in our closets and outbuildings like some unseen squatter. It is not easily dislodged. Maybe next week.
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| Yup...For most people it doesn't look like this. There's an abundance of CRAP out there... |
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The "Season."
Ah yes....that season is upon us again.
I started seeing the first Christmas sale hints not long after Labor Day....the sun was shining and if I can recall correctly, I may have been at the beach.
Fortunately, the business of ridding people of things has kept me busy enough to ignore the procession of invented holidays....Black Friday, Cyber Monday, Dollar Taco Tuesday....oh, wait, not that last one. Facebook posts proclaim..."Only 16 more presents and I'll be done with Christmas shopping." Funny how folks appear to want that process to end...sort of like cancer treatments. I've listened to acquaintances lament about how they are dreading spending the holidays with mom, dad and all the belligerent cousins. Christmas has, in many ways, become a necessary evil that comes once a year...followed closely by the filing of income taxes.
Yes...Tis the sea-son for re-gift-ing....fa la la la la.... The season of family...giving....of waiting out in the cold at 1AM in front of a big box store.
This year...the statistics are in. Consumers have spent a record amount on gifts. More stuff for me to sell I guess.
As I watch the cars line up at the mall entrance, I'm content knowing that my family knows me now. They don't ask what I want this year. They know better. My sister, also a minimalist to some degree has made a pact with me. We will not exchange gifts. Our gift to each other this year has been the new places we experienced together. That's enough for me. That makes me happy. Thanks....I have everything I need.
I DO remember the warm feelings associated with Christmas as a kid. Of course there were wrapped toys....but those were the days before I gave up the childhood practice of wanting everything that looked colorful or fun. I can't remember what I received but I do remember staying up past my schoolnight bedtime to watch Charlie Brown, Frosty and my hour-long favorite that included colorful characters like Yukon Cornelius and an elf named Herbie who wanted to be a dentist. I remember mom baking cookies, stringing up miniature lights and the smell of NYC pretzels and chestnuts at the big tree in Rockefeller Center. The things I received were incidental (not at the time...but I realize they are now.) It was the experiences that were important. The smells, sights and tastes ...I remember vividly. The things...I do not.
Next up...New Years resolutions! Can I make it past January 15th?
I started seeing the first Christmas sale hints not long after Labor Day....the sun was shining and if I can recall correctly, I may have been at the beach.
Fortunately, the business of ridding people of things has kept me busy enough to ignore the procession of invented holidays....Black Friday, Cyber Monday, Dollar Taco Tuesday....oh, wait, not that last one. Facebook posts proclaim..."Only 16 more presents and I'll be done with Christmas shopping." Funny how folks appear to want that process to end...sort of like cancer treatments. I've listened to acquaintances lament about how they are dreading spending the holidays with mom, dad and all the belligerent cousins. Christmas has, in many ways, become a necessary evil that comes once a year...followed closely by the filing of income taxes.
Yes...Tis the sea-son for re-gift-ing....fa la la la la.... The season of family...giving....of waiting out in the cold at 1AM in front of a big box store.
This year...the statistics are in. Consumers have spent a record amount on gifts. More stuff for me to sell I guess.
As I watch the cars line up at the mall entrance, I'm content knowing that my family knows me now. They don't ask what I want this year. They know better. My sister, also a minimalist to some degree has made a pact with me. We will not exchange gifts. Our gift to each other this year has been the new places we experienced together. That's enough for me. That makes me happy. Thanks....I have everything I need.
I DO remember the warm feelings associated with Christmas as a kid. Of course there were wrapped toys....but those were the days before I gave up the childhood practice of wanting everything that looked colorful or fun. I can't remember what I received but I do remember staying up past my schoolnight bedtime to watch Charlie Brown, Frosty and my hour-long favorite that included colorful characters like Yukon Cornelius and an elf named Herbie who wanted to be a dentist. I remember mom baking cookies, stringing up miniature lights and the smell of NYC pretzels and chestnuts at the big tree in Rockefeller Center. The things I received were incidental (not at the time...but I realize they are now.) It was the experiences that were important. The smells, sights and tastes ...I remember vividly. The things...I do not.
Next up...New Years resolutions! Can I make it past January 15th?
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| Funny how the original caption of this picture mentioned Christmas shopping being stressful. Holiday shopping....Meh... |
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Creep
One of the things I've learned about the accumulation of personal property is that it occurs slowly but incessantly over a long period of time. Its not like we go from a zen-like empty house to a cluttered disaster in a few weeks. The stuff sees to creep in and take up residence slowly...hiding in our closets and drawers and perhaps out in plain sight until one day we look around and say..."Where did all this crap come from?"
After coming home last night, passing out from fatigue and then waking up somewhat refreshed this morning, I am suddenly feeling that stuff is making its way back into my space. I'm not happy about it.
My desk is a shambles. The amine DVD's I picked up at last nights auction for my daughter sit by the TV. I also picked up a cheap blender since I didn't have one...but I seem to have survived without this bulky piece of kitchen machinery for the better part of a year...what made me suddenly need one...? I'm looking at the shoes scattered on my floor with utter dismay. I have six pairs? Why? My daughter and I decided to take on a project and build a cool floor lamp that resembles one I saw while vacationing in NYC...Now I have another lamp. I now see 4 lamps in the living room.... No...I'm not pleased with myself.
Folks that know me think that minimalism comes easy. Not in our society it doesn't. Despite the fact that being an auctioneer exposes me to people who have an accumulation problem, which generally keeps me on track....sometimes the fact that items can be purchased for a comparatively small amount of money at auction makes buying them attractive...whether I need them or not. So...being an auctioneer can be a double edged sword.
Usually, when I look around and find that the state of disarray is intolerable I will begin the periodic eviction process for my unwanted material guests in earnest. That day is coming soon. I feel it.
After coming home last night, passing out from fatigue and then waking up somewhat refreshed this morning, I am suddenly feeling that stuff is making its way back into my space. I'm not happy about it.
My desk is a shambles. The amine DVD's I picked up at last nights auction for my daughter sit by the TV. I also picked up a cheap blender since I didn't have one...but I seem to have survived without this bulky piece of kitchen machinery for the better part of a year...what made me suddenly need one...? I'm looking at the shoes scattered on my floor with utter dismay. I have six pairs? Why? My daughter and I decided to take on a project and build a cool floor lamp that resembles one I saw while vacationing in NYC...Now I have another lamp. I now see 4 lamps in the living room.... No...I'm not pleased with myself.
Folks that know me think that minimalism comes easy. Not in our society it doesn't. Despite the fact that being an auctioneer exposes me to people who have an accumulation problem, which generally keeps me on track....sometimes the fact that items can be purchased for a comparatively small amount of money at auction makes buying them attractive...whether I need them or not. So...being an auctioneer can be a double edged sword.
Usually, when I look around and find that the state of disarray is intolerable I will begin the periodic eviction process for my unwanted material guests in earnest. That day is coming soon. I feel it.
Friday, October 28, 2011
What to cast off....Part 2
Previously, I alluded to some of the ways you can make decisions about what to keep and what to cast off. After some thought, I realized that the list of things to get rid of kept growing to include a few things I didn't initially think of.
The big stuff....
In our society, ownership of things is a badge that says "I'm successful" or "I've arrived." One of the items I found folks bragged about most was the ownership of real estate. I'm not talking about a family home. I'm referring to anything other than the family home....namely, vacation homes, second homes and rentals. Now I'm a guy with a love affair for real estate. The trip to the attorney's closing table on a new parcel charges me up about as much as skydiving for those who like to jump out of perfectly good planes. I've bought my share of real estate.
As the years ticked by, I realized that ownership wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Telling friends I owned five houses might have given me a brief charge from a societal point of view, but immediately after uttering the words, I'd remember that I needed to mow a lawn other than my own or had property tax bills due or that a contractor needed to meet me somewhere to replace a leaky water heater that had ruined a tenant's belongings. Overall, ownership of property can be a headache...a huge one that in hindsight, didn't seem worth it in the long run.
With the real estate meltdown, there exists the temptation to jump into that second home or the vacation chalet in the mountains that you always dreamed of. I've gone through the thought process...many times. In the end, I decided against it for several reasons. First off, by purchasing a vacation home, you've locked yourself into visiting the same place over and over again. Even if you decide not to visit, there is the underlying thought..."I purchased this expensive home and now I'm not using it." That's not to say that some people don't fall in love with a location so much, they simply must spend a lot of time there. For most people, after a few visits, the luster wears off.
Secondly, a home requires maintenance even if you aren't there. You can close a house down for a year and when you get back there is usually a significant amount to be done in order to get the place up and running again. This means you are using leisure time for maintenance. Unless you happen to be wealthy enough to afford a full time groundskeeper in your absence, there will be lots to do upon your return. Many people make the situation work by renting through an agency while they are absent. If this works, fine. But roofs leak, red wine will get spilled on your white sofa by a tenant and AC units fail during the hottest months. The calls to write a big check will come...inevitably.
When I thought about it, it made more sense to simply rent a place wherever I decided to be. I'd rather walk in the door and be greeted by a home ready for me to relax and take in the surroundings. When it was time to go...I could leave the keys somewhere and be on my merry way. Leave the headache to someone else and increase your flexibility. Ditch the thought of the vacation home if you are serious about simplifying your life.
The big stuff....
In our society, ownership of things is a badge that says "I'm successful" or "I've arrived." One of the items I found folks bragged about most was the ownership of real estate. I'm not talking about a family home. I'm referring to anything other than the family home....namely, vacation homes, second homes and rentals. Now I'm a guy with a love affair for real estate. The trip to the attorney's closing table on a new parcel charges me up about as much as skydiving for those who like to jump out of perfectly good planes. I've bought my share of real estate.
As the years ticked by, I realized that ownership wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Telling friends I owned five houses might have given me a brief charge from a societal point of view, but immediately after uttering the words, I'd remember that I needed to mow a lawn other than my own or had property tax bills due or that a contractor needed to meet me somewhere to replace a leaky water heater that had ruined a tenant's belongings. Overall, ownership of property can be a headache...a huge one that in hindsight, didn't seem worth it in the long run.
With the real estate meltdown, there exists the temptation to jump into that second home or the vacation chalet in the mountains that you always dreamed of. I've gone through the thought process...many times. In the end, I decided against it for several reasons. First off, by purchasing a vacation home, you've locked yourself into visiting the same place over and over again. Even if you decide not to visit, there is the underlying thought..."I purchased this expensive home and now I'm not using it." That's not to say that some people don't fall in love with a location so much, they simply must spend a lot of time there. For most people, after a few visits, the luster wears off.
Secondly, a home requires maintenance even if you aren't there. You can close a house down for a year and when you get back there is usually a significant amount to be done in order to get the place up and running again. This means you are using leisure time for maintenance. Unless you happen to be wealthy enough to afford a full time groundskeeper in your absence, there will be lots to do upon your return. Many people make the situation work by renting through an agency while they are absent. If this works, fine. But roofs leak, red wine will get spilled on your white sofa by a tenant and AC units fail during the hottest months. The calls to write a big check will come...inevitably.
When I thought about it, it made more sense to simply rent a place wherever I decided to be. I'd rather walk in the door and be greeted by a home ready for me to relax and take in the surroundings. When it was time to go...I could leave the keys somewhere and be on my merry way. Leave the headache to someone else and increase your flexibility. Ditch the thought of the vacation home if you are serious about simplifying your life.
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| Ah...the mountains...again...and again...and again. I'd love to visit the beach someday. |
Monday, October 24, 2011
Where to trim the fat
Items to avoid owning...
1. Single function items.
Think a Slap-Chop is cool for cutting up veggies? A chef's knife will take care of that. Microwave egg cooker? Flowbee? Just gimmicks. There are thousands of products that have only one function, but take up space in a drawer, closet, cabinet or tabletop. Its OK to cook an egg in a pan and it's OK to cut hair with scissors. Don't buy single function items.
2. Stuff that needs batteries...especially toys.
Well...maybe with a few exceptions....:-) The only thing I own that needs a battery is my remote for the TV. If you have stuff that needs batteries, you can never own enough of them. Need two AA's? You'll surely have 1 "D", a package of "C" and six AAA's.
3. Big stuff that needs constant maintenance.
Most of us really do need a car but when was the last time you used your snowmobile or your jet ski or your boat. How many lawn mowers do you need? Tillers? Blowers? I can't tell you how many people have asked me to sell a boat that's been moldering in a corner of the yard, trailer tires dry-rotted, axles frozen. Too late now. Should have sold it when the motor actually still ran and the hull wasn't filled with mosquito larvae.
4. Purge your clothing.
If you haven't worn it in a year, get rid of it. Period. I know in my closet, the stuff I didn't wear ended up in the back. I simply took everything halfway down the rack all the way to the back and donated it. Didn't miss a single item. Shoes? How many pairs do you need. Emphasis on NEED. We recently cleared an estate where the deceased probably had 500 sweaters. If he wore one every day for the 100 or so days our climate requires a sweater, it would take 5 years to wear them all....if he wore each once and didn't buy any more.
5. Duplicates.
I've been in houses that had three coffee makers, 5 drills, 100 paint brushes, 1,000 towels and 5,000 twist ties and plastic bags. Nobody needs that many. You can only use one at a time, two if you are gifted. The excuse? You never know when you might need an extra. OK...when the day comes that my circular saw dies, the Home Depot is right up the street. I don't need 5 crappy used ones in the garage "just in case."
6. Miscellaneous accumulating crap.
You don't need to keep your electric bills for 10 years, or your pay stubs or your canceled checks. Pull all the Christmas stuff out of the attic and get rid of what you don't use. Have a clear out day. Everyone has to get rid of stuff. Tell your kids to get rid of 10 things they choose...or 20. Put it all in one place then have a yard sale or rent a table at a flea market. Go out to dinner with the money you make. Just don't use the money to buy more crap.
Make it a point to analyze the reasons you are keeping things. If it is sentimental and you don't have it on display or use it, take a picture of it then get rid of it. Remember...you can't take it with you and even if you tried, you'd need to dig a mighty big hole to hold it all.
1. Single function items.
Think a Slap-Chop is cool for cutting up veggies? A chef's knife will take care of that. Microwave egg cooker? Flowbee? Just gimmicks. There are thousands of products that have only one function, but take up space in a drawer, closet, cabinet or tabletop. Its OK to cook an egg in a pan and it's OK to cut hair with scissors. Don't buy single function items.
2. Stuff that needs batteries...especially toys.
Well...maybe with a few exceptions....:-) The only thing I own that needs a battery is my remote for the TV. If you have stuff that needs batteries, you can never own enough of them. Need two AA's? You'll surely have 1 "D", a package of "C" and six AAA's.
3. Big stuff that needs constant maintenance.
Most of us really do need a car but when was the last time you used your snowmobile or your jet ski or your boat. How many lawn mowers do you need? Tillers? Blowers? I can't tell you how many people have asked me to sell a boat that's been moldering in a corner of the yard, trailer tires dry-rotted, axles frozen. Too late now. Should have sold it when the motor actually still ran and the hull wasn't filled with mosquito larvae.
4. Purge your clothing.
If you haven't worn it in a year, get rid of it. Period. I know in my closet, the stuff I didn't wear ended up in the back. I simply took everything halfway down the rack all the way to the back and donated it. Didn't miss a single item. Shoes? How many pairs do you need. Emphasis on NEED. We recently cleared an estate where the deceased probably had 500 sweaters. If he wore one every day for the 100 or so days our climate requires a sweater, it would take 5 years to wear them all....if he wore each once and didn't buy any more.
5. Duplicates.
I've been in houses that had three coffee makers, 5 drills, 100 paint brushes, 1,000 towels and 5,000 twist ties and plastic bags. Nobody needs that many. You can only use one at a time, two if you are gifted. The excuse? You never know when you might need an extra. OK...when the day comes that my circular saw dies, the Home Depot is right up the street. I don't need 5 crappy used ones in the garage "just in case."
6. Miscellaneous accumulating crap.
You don't need to keep your electric bills for 10 years, or your pay stubs or your canceled checks. Pull all the Christmas stuff out of the attic and get rid of what you don't use. Have a clear out day. Everyone has to get rid of stuff. Tell your kids to get rid of 10 things they choose...or 20. Put it all in one place then have a yard sale or rent a table at a flea market. Go out to dinner with the money you make. Just don't use the money to buy more crap.
Make it a point to analyze the reasons you are keeping things. If it is sentimental and you don't have it on display or use it, take a picture of it then get rid of it. Remember...you can't take it with you and even if you tried, you'd need to dig a mighty big hole to hold it all.
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| How many of these lurk in your cabinets? 50? 100?....and this is just one thing you can get rid of.. |
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
You bought...what?
We found it in a dusty corner of the old collapsing garage...a building, that when viewed from a certain angle, looks like an Escher drawing as gravity tugs at its corners. "I bet someone will buy it" giggles one of our auctioneers...I shake my head.."No way. Toss it in the burn pile." Fast forward to three weeks later and that hornet's nest we found in the garage has fetched $20 at auction.
Where does one put it? Does it make a good centerpiece? Should we keep it away from the dog? Are we sure all the hornets are dead...are there any dead ones inside? Can we turn it into a lamp?
I'm trying to figure out what was going through the mind of the purchaser. What other sorts of things does this person own? Ant farms? Cicada husks? A stuffed beaver?
At this same sale we managed to sell: A rusty pile of sash weights, bags of sea shells, lots of broken things. Twelve years in this business and I'm still astounded at what people want to own and what they will pay to own. Certainly, the fact that I wouldn't want to own it doesn't necessarily mean that it isn't worth owning....by someone else....or maybe, something else is at work here....
Since an auction is a fast paced sale, folks need to make snap decisions about what they want to buy. They don't have time to think beyond "Oh, that's really cool...I can do something with that." The same principle is at work when you look at the Snicker's bar sitting in the display at the drugstore checkout. You know you want it and you have to make a decision right then. Then, when you have finished jamming it into your mouth you think..."Man, I just had pizza. I didn't need to eat that."
Unless it is now actually is a lamp....I'm sure there's a good chance the new owner of that dusty hornet's nest is thinking "What was I thinking!?" every time he/she passes it by in a corner of the garage. "Can't get rid of it...got twenty bucks in the thing!"
Be aware of your impulses.
Where does one put it? Does it make a good centerpiece? Should we keep it away from the dog? Are we sure all the hornets are dead...are there any dead ones inside? Can we turn it into a lamp?
I'm trying to figure out what was going through the mind of the purchaser. What other sorts of things does this person own? Ant farms? Cicada husks? A stuffed beaver?
At this same sale we managed to sell: A rusty pile of sash weights, bags of sea shells, lots of broken things. Twelve years in this business and I'm still astounded at what people want to own and what they will pay to own. Certainly, the fact that I wouldn't want to own it doesn't necessarily mean that it isn't worth owning....by someone else....or maybe, something else is at work here....
Since an auction is a fast paced sale, folks need to make snap decisions about what they want to buy. They don't have time to think beyond "Oh, that's really cool...I can do something with that." The same principle is at work when you look at the Snicker's bar sitting in the display at the drugstore checkout. You know you want it and you have to make a decision right then. Then, when you have finished jamming it into your mouth you think..."Man, I just had pizza. I didn't need to eat that."
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| I bet we can get $10 for it... |
Unless it is now actually is a lamp....I'm sure there's a good chance the new owner of that dusty hornet's nest is thinking "What was I thinking!?" every time he/she passes it by in a corner of the garage. "Can't get rid of it...got twenty bucks in the thing!"
Be aware of your impulses.
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| Hey....is that twenty bucks I see up there? |
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