On letting go of the last box

It's astonishing how much an off-hand comment from the unlikeliest of places can have an unexpected impact.

At work, we were discussing my new colleague's unpacking process over lunch, and several people commented on still having sealed boxes from moves years or even decades earlier. I felt mostly smug - but there was a guilty twinge. I have one last box in the basement. (The previous box - containing every pair of jeans I have ever worn, or so it seems - was finally dealt with earlier this year.)

The box contains all my old notes and files from university. I have left it because I couldn't decide what to do with it. I know I would like to keep my old essays - I have a small box of precious things I keep for sentimental reasons, like old diaries, photo albums, the first thing I ever knitted, letters from friends. The essays could go in there. And the scrap paper or rough notes - chuck.

But the research? The hours of my life spent standing in front of a photocopier in the library coping chapters and academic articles. The realisation that I could not access these again without paying for them. The guilty knowledge that some never got read. The secret hope of one day dusting them off, to research and write a historic novel. This expands beyond the notes in the basement - I have another two or more shelves of books, articles and so on from my final year dissertation in the spare room.

And then my new colleague commented that research moved so fast that it is quickly out of date. 

Duh. Why didn't I think of that?

If ever I do get around to writing a historic novel, the evidence for and understanding of that time period will have moved on since my first year of university. And I know I would enjoy doing that research. Not having a box of dusty old articles in the basement would not really be much of a barrier.

So finally - thanks to an off-hand comment at work - I am ready to let go of the last box.

(That just leaves the unknown number of boxes in my mother's attic. But let's forget that for now!)

The cost of a thing

There's a great Emerson quote often cited in simple living blogs, to the effect that the cost of a thing is the amount of life you exchange for it. I've been reflecting on this profound principle in the rather banal context of bed sheets.

When we bought our bed last year, we also bought bed sheets as it is bigger than beds we have previously used. We got cotton sheets (my request) in shades if grey and white (my boyfriend's). We have a duvet that is so good at insulating that it is too hot for most of the year, and except for the very coldest months we sleep under the empty duvet cover with assorted blankets on top.

It's in this context that I am making my first quilt. I'm aiming for something warm and breathable which we can use during spring, autumn and cooler summer nights (like this August). But I've also been thinking about those sheets.

You see, what I didn't take into consideration when we bought them was laundry. We have two sets if bedsheets, each eith a light grey duvet cover, grey and white pillow cases, and a dark grey fitted sheet . Unfortunately these cannot be washed together because the dark grey runs, making the white and light grey linens murky. So I now have a situation where, in order to change the bed every week, I have to do two small loads of laundry each week. A whole laundry load for a single sheet? It's almost painful. The energy, water, wear on the machine and extra work for me is frustrating.

I've worked out, though, that if we make the beds with plain white sheets in the way my mother grew up with, I could cut out three quarters of all bed linen laundry. I would need four white sheets and three sets of white pillow cases. I'm thinking this might be my next project after the quilt is done- it would save me a helluva lot if time, and a not insignificant amount of money. I could change the bedsheets every week, and do one load of laundry every fortnight, cutting out three loads of laundry. This is not an insignificant saving and would simplify my bed linen cupboard, laundry routine and bed-making each morning.

So far, so good. I am happy to invest in some plain white sheets and pillow cases in order to cut running costs - and I could even make them myself, far less work than the patchwork quilt. But but but. I checked out prices of white cotton at my favourite fabric shop, and it would cost me three times more than a shop-bought fitted sheet. But I can't do apple-pie style beds with fitted sheets. However, you may recall that I do have a large amount of cotton large enough to back the patchwork quilt which I bought for about €6 if memory serves - one tenth of what it would cost if bought in the main shop. Therefore I could keep haunting the 'puces' (fleas) or odds-and-sods-room of the fabric shop until I find enough lengths of white cotton. But that is unfortunately dress-making cotton, rather thinner than I would like... Hmmm. Could I convert a bought fitted sheet into a plain sheet?

Simplicity in the city

I am fairly sure I am not alone in the yearning for a little more space to experiment with simple living. Probably one of the most basic tenets is trying to raise your own food - plant and animal. Whether you want to be sure that your food has been organically, ethically and locally raised, or whether you are just intrigued to learn more about where food comes from, the difference between eggs from different birds and breeds and the commercially unknown variations on 'standard' fruit and veg (golden beetroot, yellow raspberries, purple carrots and so on), I think many of us want to explore this arena - certainly I do.

However, this takes space. Yes, you can grow food in pots on balconies, and yes apparently you can even raise quail in a (largeish) balcony, but you certainly can't get a goat or a milk cow to supply your home dairy, or have a large enough apple harvest to fill your pies through the winter. And moreover, I certainly would not feel comfortable raising quail or any kind of animal on a balcony because even if they only need something like 1-2 square feet per bird, it would still feel wrong not to house them somewhere they can peck at grass and bugs and suchlike.

So what do we do? Well, we can certainly live vicariously through other people's farming endeavours. I am personally really enjoying Kate's tour of Purple Pear Farm for International Year of Family Farming. We can read up and educate ourselves on how to plant a vegetable garden and how to manage livestock, or begin practicing some of the skills that might come in useful, such as combing and spinning a fleece, or making yoghurt and cheese.

However, far more useful and far more satisfying for living a simpler life now is to focus on those things that are as easy - or in some cases even easier - in an urban environment.

 

(1) Transport

Ever hear people talk about the challenge of becoming a 'one-car family'? It's not an uncommon phrase on some simple living blogs and podcasts (particularly in the USA, I think). It sounds weird to me. I don't know any family with two cars. We don't even have one. Why would we need one? Why spend money to sit in long traffic jams and then spend ages trying to find a parking space? We live a twenty-minute walk or less from parks, metro stations, supermarkets, bars, restaurants, farmers markets, and both our work places. We can walk to the city centre in 40 minutes, or take the metro and be there in 25. So take advantage of public transport, bike lanes and your own two feet - and think smugly of all the CO2 and all the hard-earned money that you are not wasting on car use.

(2) Community

You might just have noticed that population density is rather higher in cities than more rural areas. That means a whole lot more people to share things with. Whether farmers' markets or knitting groups, cookery courses or opportunities for political engagement, there's probably far more in your city than outside. Find something that feels right for you in your area and get involved, even if just once a month.

(3) Small living

If you live in a city, the chances are pretty high that you live in an appartment. Space will be limited, and the cost of upgrading to a larger home will probably be discombobulatingly high. Think about using the space you have now more effectively, try to reduce the amount of stuff you have and streamline the time, effort and money it costs you to maintain your home. Think about how your routines support the life you want to have, and consider making your own green cleaners. You might even open up some space for trying new things like stockpiling and preserving.

 

(4) Simplifying your diet

You may not be able to grow your own - yet - but you can certainly work on how you will use them when you do. Start meal planning, shopping on a budget, and exploring local farmers' markets where you can try lesser known vegetables. Have a go at preserving - make strawberry jam when it's in season and cheap, or pickle beetroot. Learn to bake bread or make yoghurt or brew beer. Whatever you do, focus on things you like and enjoy, and start slowly.

Rhonda Hetzel over at Down to Earth encourages us to 'bloom where we are planted' and it is so true that we feel dissatisfied when we focus on what we can't do, but enriched when we focus on what we can. Start here, now, where you are.

What am I wearing?

I’ve been reading recently about Project 333, and I’m building up towards giving it a try. I’ve been gradually identifying clothing items and shoes to be given away and donating them one small bag at a time, through my declutter-one-thing-a-day efforts. I’m plateauing a bit, though, so I thought limiting my daily access to clothes by putting the rest in a box and out of sight for three months might sharpen my focus.

Project 333 basically means selecting 33 items of clothing and accessories to wear for three months. You can read more about it here. There are some exceptions - sport items, pajamas, underwear and socks - and you can make your own exceptions or change the numbers around, but it seems to be a good way to evaluate what you are wearing and how you are combining clothes. One advantage is that it is seasonal so only really involves focusing on one part of your wardrobe at a time.

Reading about this in my lunch break today, I thought it might be interesting to try to list the 33 while at work. Without looking. If I had to choose 33 items of shoes, clothing and accessories from memory, which would they be?

Around number 22, I realised two things. Firstly, I was running out of items to put. I couldn’t think of anything more from my wardrobe that I particularly like wearing. I still can’t think of a 33rd item. Secondly, almost every single thing I wear on a regular basis is black, brown or blue. There are one or two grey and white pieces but in general there is very little variety in colour, and it’s all very drab, dark and dull. Towards the end of my list I tried to think of more colourful items which I could use with a wide range of outfits but pretty much only came up with the red scarf and purple pashmina (both gifts.)

In fact, almost all the more colourful, dynamic or expressive pieces in my wardrobe were gifts. I seem very reluctant to experiment with brighter or lighter colours, and I’m not entirely sure why, but now I’m looking at my wardrobe more critically and seeing the gaps, which I never have before.

My wardrobe seems at first glance to include plenty of colour, but now I realise it is almost entirely summer clothes that I would not wear to work - short-ish skirts, floaty dresses, strappy tops. Why? Why no purple jumpers, or green dresses, or very pale blue blouses? Or even light grey? I realise I wear a uniform - dark trousers, pale shirt, block-coloured v-neck sweater. Why no patterns? Why no shape?

In the interests of honesty, I am sharing my wardrobe as it is at present. As you can see, apart from the red skirt and the red hoody (neither of which I can wear to work), it's pretty dark. And very cluttered and chaotic. My boyfriend jokes that this is so messy because a racoon has moved in and is using my clothes to build a nest.

Decluttering Facebook

As I am becoming more confident in applying what for lack of a better umbrella phrase I shall term ‘the decluttering philosophy’ to my physical possessions, I find myself almost without realizing applying them also to online activities. 

I am pretty much squarely in ‘the Facebook generation’ – I use Facebook daily and find it really useful to keep in contact with friends who move jobs and homes fairly frequently. If I tried to keep their contacts in an address book it would always be out of date, email addresses change as people upgrade the quirky msn or Hotmail account of their teens for something more professional-sounding. The only sure way to be always able to check which city they live in and send a reliable message is through Facebook. 

All in all, Facebook really helps me to stay in touch with old friends I would otherwise lose track of – but I also have many many contacts on Facebook who are not really close friends. People I met at uni, people with whom I went to primary school and no longer have anything in common, people who knew people I was friends with. Recently, while checking Facebook, I have started to ‘declutter’ these people. I’m not passing any kind of comment on them – I’m sure they are all (or mostly) lovely people – but frankly if I can’t even remember who they are or how I met them, then they’re just cluttering up my Facebook. 

There is also a definite plus to this – the more I unfriend people who, honestly, aren’t actually friends (eg the former room mate of an ex-boyfriend), the more my news feed is filled with news of people I genuinely want to stay in touch with. It’s prompting me to reach out to them more, respond to their news and take the initiative to restart a correspondence or meet up in person.

Inspiration from Green Gables

"I'm going home to an old country farmhouse, once green, rather faded now, set among leafless apple orchards. There is a brook below and a December fir wood beyond, where I've heard harps swept by the fingers of rain and wind. There is a pond nearby that will be gray and brooding now. There will be two oldish ladies in the house, one tall and thin, one short and fat; and there will be two twins, one a perfect model, the other what Mrs. Lynde calls a 'holy terror.' There will be a little room upstairs over the porch, where old dreams hang thick, and a big, fat, glorious feather bed which will almost seem the height of luxury after a boardinghouse mattress. How do you like my picture, Phil?" 

"It seems a very dull one," said Phil, with a grimace. 

"Oh, but I've left out the transforming thing," said Anne softly. "There'll be love there, Phil—faithful, tender love, such as I'll never find anywhere else in the world—love that's waiting for me. That makes my picture a masterpiece, doesn't it, even if the colors are not very brilliant?" 

- Anne of the Island, L M Montgomery

The timing of this has been rather fortuitous. Just as I decide that I really do need to do some decluttering, my friend Kaylie puts me in mind of Anne-with-an-'e'. I've been re-reading Anne of Green Gables (free ebook available here) and thinking about the place. Particularly reading the later books when she goes away and comes back to visit, you really get a sense that Green Gables is a very simple, in some senses sparse, house - but filled with love and beautiful memories. I think I might even go so far as to say that Green Gables symbolises what I want my home to be.

As I am moving about my house these days, I am trying to keep 'my Green Gables' in mind. Not necessarily Green Gables itself - after all, technology and life has changed since then and it is not likely that I am going to switch from using a shower to using a washstand - but to keep that ideal in mind of a home that is outwardly simple and inwardly rich, in which each item has meaning and function.

This has been very useful and helpful as I go about my decluttering. I find myself looking at something and think - well, it's not really in the way. There are only two items left on that shelf. And it's quite pretty. And a friend gave it to me. But then I ask myself - if I were setting out to construct and furnish my own Green Gables, would I include it? If the answer is no, then there is no place for it in my home. It's quite a handy trick, I find - embracing all the concerns about keeping practical things that improve life, beautiful things that enrich life, and tokens from special moments and special people - and letting go of the rest. If I would feel comfortable putting it in Green Gables, I know it has a place in my home.

What's on your bookshelf?

Reading angry chicken's post about building a family library got me thinking over the last week. How did the selection of books on my shelves get there, what do they say about me and how do they enrich my life?

As you will have seen, I've been a little alarmed recently by identifying my reluctance to throw out things that are broken, damaged or no longer needed as the tip of the iceberg of proper, full-on can't-see-the-floors-or-even-the-walls hoarding.

The two factors came together with the realisation that most of the books on my shelf do not enrich my life. I have been holding on to lots of books that I have read and will never read again, some of which I did not particularly enjoy, but all of which I feel I have to keep hold of. This is perhaps partly a learned response, as I have always been taught never to get rid of books as they are an investment in your intellectual future, but also I think I have been clinging to an image that my bookshelves portrayed. I like being someone who has Virgina Woolf and Samuel Beckett on her bookshelves, even if I know I am never again going to read Nohow On. It was depressing enough the first time.

This means that every time I walk into the spare room, where all the bookshelves are, I feel conflicted between the life I would like to have and the one I do. Much as I would love to be an erudite reader who enjoys dissecting the finer points of Beckett after too much booze, this is not (or no longer) really a part of my life. I want to embrace new intellectual challenges - and read Beckett's plays, which I do enjoy, rather than his prose. I also look at the cluttered selection of books stacked two deep on all shelves, and piling up towards the ceiling, and feel how far this is from a peaceful, restorative and stimulating library I would like to have.

The purpose of a book is to be read. By holding books in perpetual storage on my shelves, all I do is make it harder to see the books I might pick up and read, and block new and exciting books from coming in to join the party. So I am selling four bags of books to the second-hand bookshop I frequent, and I hope they will entertain, inspire and challenge many more people. I can now actually see the books I have not yet read, and can think about which books I might like to add to a smaller but more meaningful and purposeful collection.

Week 9: Piles of paperwork

This week, I took a deep breath and tackle one of the bigger problem zones. This consisted of a hoard of magazines, piles of unsorted papers, mail and notes, and a plastic bag stuffed with tangled electronics.

But just take a look at it now!

Week 8: The charity shop pile

The last two weeks have been a bit insane here - my mother has been in hospital and I've spent a week in the UK to be near her, which has also meant a lot of work piling up here. So in this context, I think i'ts probably okay that I have missed a week, and that this week's step in the Simples challenge is a bit of a cheat.

Clearing the crafting decks

Following the completion of the second set of miniature stocking advent calenders, I am being very focused and non-spontaneous. I am aiming to finish off ALL of my works in progress before I start on anything new. I have several on the go, which is adding to the clutter and mess of my crafting supplies. I am working up to sorting through these supplies but want to do myself the favour of clearing as much out of the way as possible before I do so.

Step forward, WIP number one: cross stitch panel.

Week 7: The kitchen surfaces

I'm not sure how much this particular bit counts, as I wasn't so much decluttering as reorganising. There was no food that needed throwing out, but the new layout is much tidier and keeps the counter top much clearer, giving us more work space and also making it easier to wipe down the surfaces and keep it all lovely and clean.

Week 6: The handbag collection

I'm tackling another cupboard this week. The handbag collection. This is currently 'stored' (read: tossed in a careless fashion) on the floor of the cupboard used for long dresses and work shirts. I'm not one of those women with a handbag for every occasion. In fact, once I got the bags out onto the table, the vast majority of items in the pile were overnight bags and sponge bags.

Week 5: The bathroom

This week it was the turn of the bathroom cupboard. It has been slowly invading the bathroom floor. Empty containers vying for space with endless products that are no longer used. I even found two more sponge bags - why do I hoard them? I've no idea. These are all mixed in with an increasing number of ingredients for homemade toiletries - various oils and flower waters.

Week 4: The bedroom

When I normally try to have a clear out, usually what I do is gather up all the useless bits and bobs from around the house and dump them next to the bed. As my bedside table is next to the eaves of the roof, stuff shoved under said table or under the bed is pretty much out of sight, out of mind.

Not this time! And just to mix things up a bit, I'm going to start with the AFTER picture - because it's so lovely!

A much-needed facelift

Visitors to my blog today may have noticed some... ahem... changes. I have changed the template and banner of the blog. It was about time - the previous layout was cluttered and I felt the colours were distracting from the photos I am increasingly using. Since I am trying to simplify things, I thought - why not simplify my blog as well? It looks much cleaner now, with the colours standing out more vividly. Plus sometimes it's good to change things around.

Week 3: The coat cupboard

I'm really enjoying the planning stage of the simplifying - identifying what can go, what needs to stay, and what I don't yet have (eg storage containers). I am finding that as I go along, I usually manage to solve the puzzle - I spot something somewhere else that is unnecessary there and can be repurposed in another room. In fact, I have already thought of some better uses for items I have already thrown out, but that's just tough.

As I have recently acquired a new coat, and with winter coming on, I made my next target the coat cupboard. Take a look at it. It's 'orrible!

The coat cupboard - BEFORE

Week 2: Decluttering my handbag

Have you ever found yourself juggling your many bags at the checkout, trying to pay with only one hand, when your phone rings and you spend ages rifling through your overcrowded bag, while people queuing get restless and you try to avoid spilling essential things?

That happened several times this week. So I thought it was about time for week 2 of the Simples challenge.

First I got together my decluttering kit. A lit candle, a meringue, a glass of water and a jazz CD. Who says that simple living can't involve a dash of glamour?

Then I emptied my bag and laid it all out on a table.

Week 1: Laying out clothes

Last Saturday I decided to make a change to my routine to make it easier, and over the week I mulled over this topic, ending up not with hot spiced wine but with a more developed challenge to myself - to make one change a week to simplify my home and my life, focusing particularly on those aspects of the simple life  philosophy which I find difficult, such as routine, organisation, decluttering and time management.

I'm calling this challenge the Simples challenge. For week one, I decided to lay out my clothes each evening for the following day. I've tried it before, but always left it too late into the evening. Now I am doing this as soon as I get home from work, when I get changed into jeans and a t-shirt (or civvies, as we used to call them at school).

My work clothes are laid out over the arm on the left, and my running kit on the seat.