Buying Stuff Thoughtfully

Let me set the record straight. I am not globally against "stuff". In fact, some stuff is great stuff. Where would the world be without the automobile, dental floss or the Slap Chop? I myself own two of the three. And while I do roll my eyes at excessive consumerism and eschew the annual onslaught of Christmas presents and yes, I won't set foot inside a Walmart, nonetheless, I do have to admit that everyone has a right to determine how much stuff they want cluttering up their lives. If a person's debt-ridden credit cards require them to work 50 hours a week at a job that they hate, then that's their business. If another's raison d'etre is to acquire the best gadgets that money can by (even at the expense of enriching social experiences) then who am I to judge? And it's certainly not my place to comment on the tendency of people in this country to drive rather than walk to the local store for their gallon of fat free milk and a corn syrup-laden snack to tide them over.

Okay, that's crap. I do judge, I do comment and for the love of God, put down that sugar-laden soft drink and go for a walk, why don't ya?

Grouse as I may, everyone wants a certain level of stuff in their lives, and I must come to terms that everyone's definition of minimalism is not the same as mine. Okay, so I'm a work in progress so don't judge. (Apparently, that's my role, anyway.)

The one thing I've discovered in this quest to simplify is how it has changed my own shopping habits (Es tu, Brute? Yes, I shop) and in ways I never expected. I knew I would become more invested in the quality of the products I buy. Therefore, I anticipated that I'd spend more money for certain things. What I didn't realize was just how much time thoughtful buying takes. Holy moly, this could easily become a part-time job!

It all started with backpacks. No, actually it started with the computer. I already have a laptop, but Jeremy's desktop computer was going to have to be replaced by something portable if a mobile (a.k.a. lighter) lifestyle was our goal. Once he did the research (how much time that took, I have no idea) and purchased the computer, we were then confronted with the best way to carry the thing. And then there was my beat up briefcase style laptop bag--fine for the short jaunts of my past life, but wholly unsuitable for the nomadic lifestyle of my not too distant future.

Enter the hunt for the backpacks. For me, it had to be lightweight, be classified as a "personal item" per TSA regulations, have ample padding to protect the computer, have straps that didn't dig into my delicate flesh, and it has to hold a TON of crap. It had to be stylish, last-forever sturdy, easy to clean and a pretty color wouldn't hurt either.

Jeremy's backpack had to exhibit much of the above, but it also had to serve as his "man-purse" that he totes nearly everywhere and since he also actually hikes, the backpack had to fill that role as well. So, ventilation was important.

I'll spare you all the gory details, but it took us over week to find my backpack and Jeremy still doesn't have one.  There have been countless trips to REI, the weighing of the pros and cons, hours of online research and the purchasing and subsequent returning of items that didn't make the cut after all. I have ended up with a North Face Overhaul which in spite of its lumberjack-sounding name meets most of my requirements (with its dull brown color, it does not rate a Perfect 10, but everything else is there).

We've learned that when one simplifies, one gets very persnickety and thoughtful about those products that one does buy. And the more purposes one item can serve, the better. Try going up to the shoe salesman at REI and telling him you want a comfortable shoe that serves as sneaker, hiking boot and day shoe. It must look good with pants and skirts and oh by the way, I wear a size 10 1/2 (virtually unheard of in women's shoe sizes). See where that gets ya. Hint: let's just say I walked out without making a shoe purchase.

Jeremy has ended up buying a real man-purse (oh excuse me, I believe the PC term is "day pack"). I liked it so much, I decided to ditch my lady-purse and buy a similar one for myself. And he did pick up a protective computer sleeve for his laptop. So he has the backpack accessories, it's just that he has yet to find the backpack with which he has the perfect first date chemistry.

It's a process that apparently cannot be hurried.

This would be little more than an amusing story if it didn't apply to all of the following that we have either purchased or sought to purchase in the past three weeks:

• Hiking boots (Jeremy)
• Tennis shoes (Maureen and Jeremy)
• Cosmetic case (Maureen)
• Plastic TSA-compliant squeeze bottles
• Air mattresses
• Pants (Maureen and Jeremy)
• Jackets (Maureen and Jeremy)
• Suitcases and the assorted paraphernalia that accompanies them to make one's packing life easier
• Plastic storage boxes
• Camera (Jeremy)
• iPhone (Maureen)
• Wallet/passport holder (Maureen)
• Shampoo bars (as an aside--who knew there was such a thing? There is! A bar of shampoo to avoid the whole "flying with liquids in your carry-on" issue)
• A couple of scarves to jazz up my mostly black travel wardrobe (Maureen)

And those are just the things I can remember!

In the past, my shopping strategy has been more of need it, find it, buy it. I've never been a social shopper. If it was a big ticket item, then I'd do my research and then, without much agonizing, buy the product. But now it feels as though every item is big ticket. It has to be compact, be multi-purpose, be made to last, be environmentally friendly and it really should be made in the USA (although adherence to this last criterion has been difficult).

I guess this is what being a thoughtful consumer means--taking the time to get it right the first time. I'm hoping it will save money, resources and time in the long run as these items shouldn't have to be replaced for a long time. But the initial time investment is astounding! I thought simplifying was supposed to give me more time, not suck it up reading reviews on Amazon, trying on 37 pairs of black pants to get the exact perfect pair, and buying and returning things all over town.

My God! I'm acting like a shopaholic!

Hopefully this phase will be over soon and my "spare time" will be more like I envision: having cocktails in the tiki hut with my husband in the early evening while we toast our good fortune and cast aspersions on those who spend too much time watching TV and shopping.

But for now, (Gulp!) you can find me at the mall.


Maureen Thomson and Jeremy Myers are a husband and wife team offering professional housesitting services worldwide. Visit our HouseSitting Couple website for more information.

Destuffing--Round Two

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.