I remember the day my personal evolution to a minimalist lifestyle began. It was January 2, 2008. Having established that my theme for the year was to be "simplicity," my plan was to pare down a bit--clean out some drawers, get rid of some unwanted items, go through the boxes in the attic and garage and lighten the load a bit. Since I'm tidy by nature and clutter makes me a little nuts, I didn't see where this theme was going to be more of my life-changing ones. That is, of course, until I entered my walk-in closet on the morning of January 2, 2008.
On that fateful day, I was chagrined to discover that I owned 42 pairs of jeans. Forty two stinkin' pairs of jeans! Ranging in size from 8 (skinny jeans) to 14 (too awful to think about jeans), there they were all neatly folded. Prewashed, boot cut, straight leg, relaxed fit, slim fit, jeans with strategically-placed holes, jeans with razor sharp ironed creases, dress jeans, longer jeans for wearing with heels, shorter length for flats, black jeans, white jeans (I am, if nothing else, an equal-opportunity jean-hoarder) high rise, low rise, 100% cotton jeans, jeans with spandex and yes....I'll own it...jeans with the tags still on them.
Forty two pairs. And the funny thing is--I am not a fashion-slave. I like to look my best, but a Sex in the City wardrobe has never been high on my list of things that define who I am. So how the heck did these 42 pairs of jeans get into my closet? They were folded too neatly for anyone else to have slipped them in there--my signature tri-fold style was written all over them. And since I don't think that my denims were replicating on their own, I can only assume that at some point I had purchased them with my very own hard-earned money.
Talk about an eye opener. By noon I had pared the jeans down to a more respectable number. The exact amount escapes me, but I am guessing that no more than five pairs were stacked on the shelves by the time the task was completed. Then I turned my attention to my shoes, then my purses, then...
...the momentum continued throughout that entire year and beyond. By the end of 2008, Jeremy and I had sold my 2,600 square foot Victorian and most of its contents and moved to a 1,300 square foot furnished rental home on the Oregon coast. It felt wonderfully liberating. After a year there, we rented a 2,000 square foot unfurnished home in Portland. And then we proceeded to fill it with stuff. TV's (on which we only watch movies twice a week), art work, family photos, fluffy bath towels (in coordinating colors--for both bathrooms), books, lamps (so we could see to read the books), end tables (to hold the lamps), a kitchen set (for us) a dining room set (for when the kids came to visit), a king sized bed (which I'm pretty sure extends into two zip codes--I'm thinking about getting some walkie-talkies so Jeremy and I can hear each other better when we're in it) and a queen sized bed (for the guest room--we want the kids to know they're welcome) a trundle bed (for granddaughter Kaydi), new desks (we work from home and deserve nice work spaces), throw rugs, clocks, bedding, candles and their assorted holders, tchotskies, and doodads.
And don't even get me started on the kitchen!
So, yeah, we kinda fell off the simplicity wagon. But it was a gradual fall, culminating in such a cushy landing (no doubt on our humongous king sized mattress) that we hardly noticed. And even with this endless list of stuff, we still have less than the average American Joe. We have one car, we use everything we have, our home is remarkably uncluttered, and our closets are not stuffed to the rafters.
It was in comparing ourselves to the average American Joe where we went wrong. The fact that we have less crap than our neighbors notwithstanding, Jeremy and I began to feel weighed down, stifled and trapped by our load.
In short, we were over-stuffed. Again.
Sigh...
So now it;s time for "De-stuffing, the Sequel." And this will be our final performance. We've given our notice to the landlord, scheduled the estate sale and begun the process of paring ourselves down to whatever will fit in the car. Then we're outta here to travel the world. The task is a daunting one. I'll cover its ups and downs in future posts. But this time, we are being ruthless. It's our Sherman's March to the Sea approach to simplifying.
Changing my mind is no longer an option at this point (not that I am tempted). Last night, after an exhausting day of preparing the garage and all his tools for sale, Jeremy plopped onto the couch and announced that "if we ever settle down in one place again, it had better be my final stopover before I'm planted in the ground because I am never doing this again!"
And the choir to which he was preaching had no objection!
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
The end of (this) saga
In this past Friday's post, I made mention of the contract issues we were having with our prospective housesit in New Mexico. After going over the contract with a fine tooth comb, only to confirm that I had, indeed, incorporated all of the Homeowner's changes into the agreement, I sent an email asking for clarification on what they thought had been omitted. I began to smell a rodent when 24 hours went by with no response. Hmmmm...could this be the same people who usually responded in under an hour?
Sure enough, a short while later, Jeremy and I received a notably unapologetic email saying that a "family financial problem" was causing them to cancel their trip. That would be the trip that necessitated them having us as housesitters.So, that's the end of that. Methinks they were stalling for time under the guise of debating the contract verbiage when in reality there was some doubt that the trip was to even take place.
So, to mix my metaphors--nothing is etched in stone until the fat lady sings.
We are surprisingly unconcerned about this chain of events, at least as far as our plans go. However, the amount of time we spent dinking around with irrelevant, immaterial contractual minutia, only to have things go nowhere, was disheartening. It's one thing to cater to the whims of others and get something from it; quite different to kowtow and then get unceremoniously dumped without so much as a thank-you-for-your-time.
I'm starting to see the parallels between this and online dating!
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Sure enough, a short while later, Jeremy and I received a notably unapologetic email saying that a "family financial problem" was causing them to cancel their trip. That would be the trip that necessitated them having us as housesitters.So, that's the end of that. Methinks they were stalling for time under the guise of debating the contract verbiage when in reality there was some doubt that the trip was to even take place.
So, to mix my metaphors--nothing is etched in stone until the fat lady sings.
We are surprisingly unconcerned about this chain of events, at least as far as our plans go. However, the amount of time we spent dinking around with irrelevant, immaterial contractual minutia, only to have things go nowhere, was disheartening. It's one thing to cater to the whims of others and get something from it; quite different to kowtow and then get unceremoniously dumped without so much as a thank-you-for-your-time.
I'm starting to see the parallels between this and online dating!
Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Contracting stress
It's been stressful around House Sitting Couple's household the past few days, as evidenced by Jeremy ending up at the bar yesterday morning. I worried only moderately, however, for it was the bakery bar to which he bellied up--not an alcoholic one. As a veteran of the consume-sugar-to-combat-stress war, I did my best (to no avail) to convince him that a chocolate croissant was not the best solution for his angst. Fortunately, he's not overweight and heart disease doesn't run in his family so, yeah, I let that one go.
One source of our stress has been trying to get a contract signed with the couple with whom we'll do our first full-time house sit. Prior housesits have been done on a handshake but since we're now turning pro, we've decided to make things all official-like, with crossed t's and dotted i's etc. Having used and refined the contracts for our wedding officiating business over the years, we figure we know a thing or two about the contractual process. So, where's the stress?
Well, we made the mistake of asking the Homeowners for their input in the contract. What was I thinking? I know better. What I should have done was craft the contract and then sent it to the Homeowners for signature. If they had any dispute with a particular contract term or terms, we would have gladly negotiated and/or edited it. We want the people for whom we sit to be happy and comfortable with us even before we show up on their doorstep. But, as so often happens when their are too many cooks in the kitchen, the changes that came back to us were not at all what we expected. There was little, if any, challenge to our terms, but yet the contract came back with much red ink, suggesting changes that were minute, unnecessary and that made the contract look amateurish and unprofessional (in our humble opinion).
We can't blame these folks--they have been wonderful to work with thus far and we're so looking forward to taking care of their home and dogs. Jeremy and I have been steeped in contract language for years, it's virtually our second language. We shouldn't expect the people for whom we sit to also be skilled in this department. That's our forte, so therefore our job--not theirs.
I've tried valiantly to incorporate the essence of their changes into our contract while still maintaining the integrity of the agreement. We've put a ridiculous amount of time and energy into it and as of this writing and still don't have a signed document. While the assignment is still a go in our eyes, I would still feel better if all parties signed off on it.
Okay, so Lesson #1 learned in the Housesitting Department. Professionals don't ask for input on their contract. Professionals present their terms and then cooperate with any Homeowner objections to said terms to ultimately end up with a written Agreement that is amenable to all parties. Got it!
To be fair, that was only one small source of our stress--and one upon which we can only blame ourselves. But the rest of the story will have to wait for another day.
Now, where did I hide those chocolate cookies...?
Husband and wife Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are professional housesitters caring for homes and pets around the world. Visit their website at www.HouseSittingCouple.com.
One source of our stress has been trying to get a contract signed with the couple with whom we'll do our first full-time house sit. Prior housesits have been done on a handshake but since we're now turning pro, we've decided to make things all official-like, with crossed t's and dotted i's etc. Having used and refined the contracts for our wedding officiating business over the years, we figure we know a thing or two about the contractual process. So, where's the stress?
Well, we made the mistake of asking the Homeowners for their input in the contract. What was I thinking? I know better. What I should have done was craft the contract and then sent it to the Homeowners for signature. If they had any dispute with a particular contract term or terms, we would have gladly negotiated and/or edited it. We want the people for whom we sit to be happy and comfortable with us even before we show up on their doorstep. But, as so often happens when their are too many cooks in the kitchen, the changes that came back to us were not at all what we expected. There was little, if any, challenge to our terms, but yet the contract came back with much red ink, suggesting changes that were minute, unnecessary and that made the contract look amateurish and unprofessional (in our humble opinion).
We can't blame these folks--they have been wonderful to work with thus far and we're so looking forward to taking care of their home and dogs. Jeremy and I have been steeped in contract language for years, it's virtually our second language. We shouldn't expect the people for whom we sit to also be skilled in this department. That's our forte, so therefore our job--not theirs.
I've tried valiantly to incorporate the essence of their changes into our contract while still maintaining the integrity of the agreement. We've put a ridiculous amount of time and energy into it and as of this writing and still don't have a signed document. While the assignment is still a go in our eyes, I would still feel better if all parties signed off on it.
Okay, so Lesson #1 learned in the Housesitting Department. Professionals don't ask for input on their contract. Professionals present their terms and then cooperate with any Homeowner objections to said terms to ultimately end up with a written Agreement that is amenable to all parties. Got it!
To be fair, that was only one small source of our stress--and one upon which we can only blame ourselves. But the rest of the story will have to wait for another day.
Now, where did I hide those chocolate cookies...?
Husband and wife Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are professional housesitters caring for homes and pets around the world. Visit their website at www.HouseSittingCouple.com.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Housesitting Adventure Begins!
It is February 21, 20011. President's Day. I don't know what the President is doing today, but I think it can't be as exciting, tumultuous, scary and invigorating as what Jeremy and I are contemplating. A feuding Congress, an unbalanced federal budget and war in the middle east pale in comparison to the monumental lifestyle change that Jeremy and I are about to undertake.
My tendency toward melodrama notwithstanding, this is a significant lifestyle change and not one that has come about without some heavy weighing of the pros and cons.
Some background
Jeremy and I met--as they say in romance novels--in the autumn of our lives circa 2005. Each of us empty-nesters, we found that we shared a passion for travel, meeting new people and having out of the ordinary experiences. I, for one, have always tried as much as possible to sidestep anything resembling a beige life. Jeremy does not abhor beige as much as I do, although it's still not high on his list. He might, however-- if presented with another marital partner and a different set of circumstances--have inadvertently meandered unnoticed into a beige lifestyle. But that was not Jeremy's lot in life and so, having reconciled himself to the fact that he has coupled himself--for better or for worse--to a woman whose wanderlust appears unquenchable, he has embraced our lifestyle with a vigor and enthusiasm that often outshines my own. It's the stuff that dreams are made of.
But I digress. Our five years together has been filled with happy, albeit restless wandering while we have tried to figure out where we want to permanently land. Because our home based business can be run from anywhere there is a decent Internet connection (we own a wedding officiating business), that gives us a lot of choice. Yeah....that whole choice thing is vastly overrated.
Wanderlust
We got off to a great start. Our first venture into the alternative housing game came with a house swap with a delightful British gentleman in Nerja Spain. Stuart spent six weeks in our snow-capped Victorian home in Denver, CO while we plopped out butts on the shores of the Mediterranean. Two years later, after exploring--and ultimately rejecting--Ecuador and Mexico as alternative places to live, we sold our Denver Victorian along with all of our furniture, and moved to the Oregon coast. Ah...bliss...only five blocks to the ocean in a peacefully quiet small town. We rented a smallish furnished home and settled in. What could be better?
Well, problem was it was a dreadfully quiet small town. Great for visiting for a few months, horribly stifling to live in for any length of time. Still, though, we loved Oregon climate and people so we moved 90 miles down the road to Portland. Ah....bliss... an eco-friendly, bike-lovin' walkable city with interesting architecture, coffee shops and quirky people. We loved it...and we still do...
...except...
You know those stories you hear of couples that go on a vacation and end up loving the place so much that they move there, set down roots and live a stable and happily ever after life? Yeah, well...that's not us. Turns out that as much as we love Portland, staying put in any one place for more than six months at a time makes us antsy. Wanderlust is in our blood, at least for now.
Which Brings Us To Now
We've finally listened to our inner whisper (the one that keeps repeating "no fixed address" over and over) and decided to embrace this part of us as opposed to fighting it. So, we've embarked on a house-sitting and travel adventure. Yep--we're choosing to be happily homeless. Pretty much minimalists to the core, neither Jeremy nor I can see the purpose of keeping and paying for a full time house simply to use it as a stopover place to flop between adventures. It seems wasteful. Plus, it ties us down. Oh great. I realize in typing this that we've become housing commitaphobes. Is there a 12-step program for that?
Alas, over the couple of years since we sold the Victorian, we've amassed yet another houseful of furniture. While our home is certainly not cluttered and we do use everything we own, nonetheless, we're living in a 2,000 square foot, 3-bedroom, 1 family room, 2 office, 1 dining room, 2 bath (you get the picture) home and every room in it is fully furnished. Oh yeah, with brand new (not inexpensive) furniture. Sigh...how did all this stuff find it way into our lives?
Okay, no time for an analysis of the behavior patterns of the modern American Empty Nester. Onward! This blog will journal our story as we progress through our transition and live the life of the happily homeless.
Stay tuned. As Jeremy would say, "This is about to get really interesting!"
My tendency toward melodrama notwithstanding, this is a significant lifestyle change and not one that has come about without some heavy weighing of the pros and cons.
Some background
Jeremy and I met--as they say in romance novels--in the autumn of our lives circa 2005. Each of us empty-nesters, we found that we shared a passion for travel, meeting new people and having out of the ordinary experiences. I, for one, have always tried as much as possible to sidestep anything resembling a beige life. Jeremy does not abhor beige as much as I do, although it's still not high on his list. He might, however-- if presented with another marital partner and a different set of circumstances--have inadvertently meandered unnoticed into a beige lifestyle. But that was not Jeremy's lot in life and so, having reconciled himself to the fact that he has coupled himself--for better or for worse--to a woman whose wanderlust appears unquenchable, he has embraced our lifestyle with a vigor and enthusiasm that often outshines my own. It's the stuff that dreams are made of.
But I digress. Our five years together has been filled with happy, albeit restless wandering while we have tried to figure out where we want to permanently land. Because our home based business can be run from anywhere there is a decent Internet connection (we own a wedding officiating business), that gives us a lot of choice. Yeah....that whole choice thing is vastly overrated.
Wanderlust
We got off to a great start. Our first venture into the alternative housing game came with a house swap with a delightful British gentleman in Nerja Spain. Stuart spent six weeks in our snow-capped Victorian home in Denver, CO while we plopped out butts on the shores of the Mediterranean. Two years later, after exploring--and ultimately rejecting--Ecuador and Mexico as alternative places to live, we sold our Denver Victorian along with all of our furniture, and moved to the Oregon coast. Ah...bliss...only five blocks to the ocean in a peacefully quiet small town. We rented a smallish furnished home and settled in. What could be better?
Well, problem was it was a dreadfully quiet small town. Great for visiting for a few months, horribly stifling to live in for any length of time. Still, though, we loved Oregon climate and people so we moved 90 miles down the road to Portland. Ah....bliss... an eco-friendly, bike-lovin' walkable city with interesting architecture, coffee shops and quirky people. We loved it...and we still do...
...except...
You know those stories you hear of couples that go on a vacation and end up loving the place so much that they move there, set down roots and live a stable and happily ever after life? Yeah, well...that's not us. Turns out that as much as we love Portland, staying put in any one place for more than six months at a time makes us antsy. Wanderlust is in our blood, at least for now.
Which Brings Us To Now
We've finally listened to our inner whisper (the one that keeps repeating "no fixed address" over and over) and decided to embrace this part of us as opposed to fighting it. So, we've embarked on a house-sitting and travel adventure. Yep--we're choosing to be happily homeless. Pretty much minimalists to the core, neither Jeremy nor I can see the purpose of keeping and paying for a full time house simply to use it as a stopover place to flop between adventures. It seems wasteful. Plus, it ties us down. Oh great. I realize in typing this that we've become housing commitaphobes. Is there a 12-step program for that?
Alas, over the couple of years since we sold the Victorian, we've amassed yet another houseful of furniture. While our home is certainly not cluttered and we do use everything we own, nonetheless, we're living in a 2,000 square foot, 3-bedroom, 1 family room, 2 office, 1 dining room, 2 bath (you get the picture) home and every room in it is fully furnished. Oh yeah, with brand new (not inexpensive) furniture. Sigh...how did all this stuff find it way into our lives?
Okay, no time for an analysis of the behavior patterns of the modern American Empty Nester. Onward! This blog will journal our story as we progress through our transition and live the life of the happily homeless.
Stay tuned. As Jeremy would say, "This is about to get really interesting!"
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