I’ve donated an enormous amount of stuff over the course of my recent nomadic years.
Last January, I tackled the last bastion of clutter–the extra bedroom in the basement.
I bought a bunch of colour-coordinated bins, and spent a couple of days down there.
I hung all my unused art work on the wall to get it out of the pile. I sorted through the boxes, and got rid of everything not deemed worthy of space in my bins.
I felt good–really good–about my efforts.
But lately, the bins have been bothering me.
They’re neat. They’re tidy. They’re a pretty robin’s egg blue…
…but they’re full of stuff.
Other than my Christmas decorations, I haven’t looked at any of it for years.
My sole interaction with this stuff has been transferring it from ugly cardboard boxes into expensive bins.
I can safely say none of it is bringing me joy.
What’s a wannabe minimalist to do?
I can move it all the garden shed where I’ll (hopefully) forget about it, or I can go through it again, whittling away at the pile.