The Year of Living Frugally – After 3 Weeks

Simplify. Downsize. Get Rid of Stuff.

This weekend I had to prepare to move from an expensive house to a much cheaper room. I needed to downsize and sell off some of my stuff. Over the last couple weeks, I had made progress and sold off much of my furniture. However, with the end of the month occurring this Friday, I need to be nearly finished this weekend! I emptied almost all the remaining contents of the house into my living room to take inventory.

It was a practical idea. Two years ago when I drove here from Minnesota – I was able to downsize enough to fit all my possessions into a 6′x12′ covered U-Haul trailer (which almost killed me several times on downhill sections – but that is a different story). I eventually rented a 2-bedroom house here in California – and at the same time, my supervisor at work moved away and they sold me lots of stuff to fill up the house (because they didn’t want to have to drive a moving van across the country a second time within a year).

Anyways, I no longer have the V6 SUV to tow the 6′x12′ – I downsized to the 4-cylinder pickup – so I need to be able to fit my life into a 5′x8′ trailer. I have had people comment on my soon-to-be monk-like existence – but do monks have 5′x8′ storage units?

Placing all of your possessions into a single pile can be a humbling experience. Only then will you comprehend the obscene amount of stuff that you really own. I remember an article in National Geographic, where they would photograph families from different cultures – next to a pile of all of their possessions. As you can imagine, the more “western” and “first-world” the culture, the larger the pile of stuff.

I was very busy posting ads on craigslist. The good stuff sells relatively fast, and the okay stuff can be sold with selective price lowering – but I ended up with a pile of random things that weren’t worth posting their own ads for. The types of things that would sell for $0.25 to $2 at a garage sale.

Problem was, I didn’t want people in and out all day browsing for things to buy for only a quarter (and taking up all my time). Quite a bit of it was nice stuff – but some of it was just junk. I took a picture of the nicest glassware and posted an ad to take it all for $10.

I had a set of candle holders, about 8″ tall, that were shaped like 1950’s era competitive swimmers. A woman and a man – prepared to dive, in the starting position – arms swept up behind them – hands holding the plates that the candles sit on. The woman figurine – in her modest one-piece 1950’s era red swimsuit and matching bathing cap – had a very distinguishing feature. If she happened to be a full-sized woman, she would have the equivalent of protruding thumbs for nipples.

A few years ago, I had a Christmas party at my house. There was a white elephant gift exchange (you know the type – where if you don’t like you present you unwrap, you can trade for someone else’s). I didn’t end up with the candle holders – someone else did at the party. She hid the candle holders in it’s gift bag and set it next to a pile of empty gift bags. They were just so unique I didn’t know how to get rid of them. After I downsized and moved to California (and just exactly how did these treasures make the cut to get on that trailer??), they ended up holding candles in my bathroom – poised and frozen, waiting forever to start the race and dive into the toilet bowl.

So every one who comes to visit – when they use the bathroom – gets to view these lovely pieces of art. Most women would look at these things and complain about the protruding nipple shapes (because, once you see 8-inch figurines poised to dive into a toilet – you have to get closer look to see if it’s not a hallucination. Then WHAM! You almost poke your eye out on them). Most men just noticed the protruding nipples and would comment that they noticed.

So a young woman stopped by to pick up the nice glassware, and I had added all the “extras” to the pile. She had left me an email stating that she was moving into her own apartment and didn’t have anything (Perfect! She has plenty of space for my leftover stuff!). I found other useful items to add to the pile to sweeten the pot (besides the swimmers). There was a really nice casserole dish (I had three), a 3-gallon pot for boiling crab, uhhh… a decorative icing bag, a dumpling press, an 18-inch cooking fork…

When she looked at the pile, I explained to her that I had found some additional things for her. She instantly looked at and picked up the female-swimmer candle holder. I picked up the ceramic oval casserole dish and explained how it was oven, microwave and dishwasher safe. She looked at the nipples, raised her eyebrows and crinkled her forehead, and looked at me. I explained how she could boil the wort for brewing beer in the large pot – not just cook crabs. She suggested that she really didn’t like the candle holders. I started joking about how it was a package deal and she had to take all of it if she wanted to buy the glassware.

The Jedi mind trick worked. I helped her pack it into her trunk before she could change her mind…

So far, I’ve kept my tools, any sporting good item that would allow me to get food (SCUBA and fishing), anything that allows for the creation of art, surfing gear and other exercise equipment, and irreplaceable things like photos and art from my travels.

I have a unique piece of Mexican folk art that I am torn about keeping. It is a wood carving, from Oaxaca, of a mermaid – la sirena. The old man who owned the store where it was purchased explained it’s story to me (in Spanish – which I speak like a 6-year-old – but I got most of the translation). La Sirena is rather severe looking – and the point of this is to serve as a cautionary tale. “Don’t chase the mermaid – because if you catch her you’ll find out she wasn’t quite what you thought you were getting.”

My ex-wife did not like it (we were married at the time). She didn’t say much about it at the store, other than she thought it was ugly. She also thought “Los Barrachos” and the “Perros Bailando de Colima” were ugly – so I did not worry too much at the time. I liked the story because I appreciated the human lesson that went with it. It was a morality tale for the Oaxacan fisherman not to chase women other than their wives – because even if they caught that mermaid – they would find that the mermaid was imperfect (like their wives – like themselves – like all people have flaws, and the grass isn’t always greener…).

After the divorce I understood. When her and I were in Mexico and I had bought the mermaid – she was already planning the separation. My ex-wife thought that I bought the ugly mermaid because it represented her – and the arguements pushed the end into motion. I think it’s a great piece of folk art. I have no bad feelings attached to it – yet I am cognizant of the fact that I was married and then got divorced shortly after buying it. In some ways it does represent positive things – but the negative part of the story is always there. There is a great variety of reactions to this piece (although the most common is about hideousness, and that it is rather imposing with it’s 30-inch tailspan).

This is the hardest part of getting rid of stuff. Everything I own seems to tell me a story. From the nippled candle-holders to the two-tailed mermaid, the “older dude” poncho, the plates, the old clothes, every piece of electronic equipment, every tool, every lamp, book and kitchen appliance. All of my stuff is a reminder of where I came from and who I am. Having all of those reminders constantly talking to me – does that make it more difficult for me to imagine who I could be in the future?

It is only stuff.

(continue on to Week Four)