I recently came to the realization that I am being owned by my stuff. A lot of my personal time is devoted to dealing with stuff — organizing stuff, moving stuff, buying stuff and selling stuff, and even making lists of all my stuff. Why do I spend so much time on stuff? It’s not like I didn’t have stuff as a kid — that’s not the problem. The problem is I *still* have all the stuff I had as a kid, along with pretty much everything I’ve owned since then as well.
I can’t tell you how many things I’ve bought simply because they were a “good deal” (or so it seemed at the time). Close out toys, games, computer stuff … all stuff I never end up using. I just buy things because they’re cheap, hoping to sell them for more money on eBay or something. The problem is, I never sell the items. My garage is packed with “stuff” that I got on sale that I was going to sell and never did. I go to thrift stores every week, looking for more stuff. I almost always end up buying things that I used to own and threw away, things I already own but want a spare of, or things I think I can sell for more money. And when it comes to thrift store things, we’re talking about stuff you pay a dollar or two for and can sell for four or five dollars (minus eBay and PayPal fees, which leaves you with a profit of … a dollar or two).
What’s worse is, when I get home and look at the stuff I want to sell, I talk myself out of it. “I might find a use for that old 386 laptop someday.” I actually said that sentence this weekend. I have boxes of toys and trinkets I’ve saved since my childhood for who knows what reason. Emotionally I can’t sell them and no one would want to buy them anyway. I think a lot of the things I had as a kid I saved for my kids to have and play with someday … but now that I have a kid, he has plenty of toys of his own and wants no part of my old crap. So now I have toys that I’ve been holding on to for 20 years that I have no idea what to do with. I can’t get rid of them because they’ve got to be worth something. To somebody. Somewhere.
Occasionally I get so frustrated with the entire situation that I’ll just start throwing things away, but that only makes matters worse. First of all, I get so into the throwing away thing that I end up throwing away things I later regret. No matter what (it NEVER FAILS), two weeks after I’ve thrown something away, it comes up in conversation. I threw away a bunch of old computer magazines last summer. Two weeks later, a bunch of my online friends began a project involving scanning in old ads from old computer magazines. I’ve thrown away computer cables, only to need the exact same one the following week. Of course I’m not sure my solution is the healthiest one available (keeping everything I’ve ever owned forever).
I read on a packrat website recently that one way to get rid of things is to take a picture of them before throwing them away. That way, you still have a picture of the item but can get rid of the item (so it doesn’t take up space). That works … to a point. Of course just like I mentioned before, when people go, “man, remember when laptops were the size of suitcases?” and I say, “yeah — and I HAVE ONE!” they look at me weird, but not as weird as when I say, “yeah — and I USED to have one but I THREW it away. Wanna see a picture of it?” Just not the same impact.
Susan kids me about my unhealthy obsession with shelves. When I see a bare wall, I see a place where shelves could be. It’s all about vertical storage, baby. Every couple of months, when my computer room floor is filled with “stuff” and there’s no where else for it to go, I either buy or build some shelves, so I can clean the floor, so I can store my stuff, so I can make room for more stuff. Sometimes I wonder how much of my life has been wasted on dealing with “stuff”.
This weekend, I realized something. The stuff has won the battle. The stuff now controls everything. It seems like all my spare time is spent caring for my stuff. Dealing with my garage is overwhelming because there’s too much stuff. There’s not even any room to maneuver the stuff in. If there were an empty shelf I could move stuff off the floor to so I could start moving stuff around, I would, but there isn’t. My garage officially now has shelves on every side except the garage door itself. Custom made ones line the left side, old metal ones are on the right, and big huge ones from Lowe’s line the back wall. All of them are filled with stuff.
The biggest problem with the battle of the stuff is that I don’t have time to fight it any longer. Between Susan, Mason, baby-on-the-way and work, I have no time to deal with stuff. Every now and then I’ll notice the “stuff” in my car has grown, or the pile on the kitchen table is out of control, and I’ll distribute the stuff like manure around the house so that it doesn’t look like there’s so much stuff. Then, it’s back to getting more stuff.
This weekend was “big trash day”. Out by the curb I stacked our old gas grill, an old weight bench, a couple of large boxes of trash, and an old large wooden trunk. Honestly, HONESTLY, in the garage, you can tell no difference. It didn’t even make a dent.
I wonder how my battle with stuff will end.