ENOUGH!

I just moved.  A short move, but a move, nonetheless.  I am married to a lovely man whose largest fault, in my opinion, is the vast amount of THINGS he has been able to accumulate in his young life.  We moved from a large two bedroom apartment into a very tiny, yet adorable, one-bedroom apartment.  Here's the issue: it is impossible to live in said adorable apartment alongside my husband's prodigious collection of rare board games, Star Wars (tm) themed Christmas tree ornaments and parmesan cheese graters (at one point, we had FIVE).  For days before our move and some days afterward, I cajoled my husband to offload some of his stuff.  Okay, I cried and screamed a lot, too.  I felt like I was drowning under a vast wave of useless junk, collected in some weird effort to make our lives into something other than what they were.  We had a yard sale.  We took carloads of things to Goodwill.  We gave stuff away.  We even left some things in our old apartment because a friend without much in the way of furniture was subletting from us.  Still, we had a lot to move.  

It was only after moving in and beginning the process of unpacking that I realized just how much useless stuff of my own I had held onto over the years.  I have several framed photos I kept, despite the fact that both my photographic eye and equipment have improved vastly since I took those point and shoot snaps of the Nubble Point Light House.  I had a number of items of clothing I have never worn, with the price tags still on them.  Granted, I wasn't the one who had managed to collect approximately six silicone barbecue basting brushes or matching margarita and martini glasses, but still...  I was part of the problem.  Moreover, I saw the random crap I've kept as an almost unpardonable waste of money.  Sure, that brocade coat was marked down 75%, but is it still a bargain if I never wore it?  Hell, no.

Another thing that occurred to me was the fact that most of the "stuff" I'd yelled at my husband for keeping had been given to him (to us) by well-meaning people who had no earthly idea of what our day to day lives were really like.  Our stuff spoke of a life of endless entertaining, parties, sushi cookery, scrapbooking, book clubs, opera going and presumptive travel to exotic locations.  And, if the sheer number of our cheese graters is any indication, a life almost entirely devoted to the grating of parmesan cheese. In reality, we've lived in tiny apartments barely able to accommodate ourselves, let alone guests.  We've lived on excruciatingly tight budgets as we've navigated the challenging economy of graduate school and have travelled only to visit family or when grant money provided for a research trip or conference attendance.  We don't cook as often as we should, and the only books we've really had the time to read have been for our classes.  I love the people who have given us well-meaning gifts, but at a certain point, we needed to say "Look, this is who we ARE.  Stop throwing money away on presents for who we are NOT."

So what I propose to do is not buy a damn thing for the next month and, if it works, stretch that even farther.  We will, of course, buy food and hygiene products (the world would hate us if we didn't) and I will knuckle under if I need to buy something to help me secure gainful employment.  But I will not buy a dress if it looks cute.  I have enough.  I will not buy a book if it looks interesting.  I have a library card.  I will not buy the complete series DVD collection of "The Golden Girls."  I will have cable shortly and it's on endless rotation.  I don't NEED much.  I already HAVE plenty.  I just didn't realize how much I actually had that made me happy until now.

As a sidebar, I think I may have signed up to show some of my photographs at an art show.  If that turns out to be true, I will have to buy supplies to mat and frame the photos, but I consider that to fall under the gainful employment banner.  Also, I will probably be pooping myself in terror.  Updates to follow.