Today, February 1, marks the start of my #NoNewThings challenge. I learned about this via Shira Gill’s Instagram account and weekly newsletter (check out her books Minimalista and Organized Living, two books I read last year and loved). In essence, it’s a challenge to buy nothing new, no new stuff–you can thrift, you can swap, you can borrow, share, make, etc. You can go out to eat; you can buy groceries and household necessities (aka toilet paper/detergent/etc.). You can rent videos or take classes or go out to the movies–it’s purely about avoiding bringing brand-spanking new things, stuff, non-necessities into the home.
I wanted to give this a try because I’ve found lately I’ve been very thoughtless on what I decide I “need” and my buying history is–while not excessive or debt-inducing–steady and very likely unnecessary. I just want to have to think a little harder about what I decide to put in my shopping cart (especially online, because hooobaby, it’s too easy). I like little things. Notebooks (notebook hoarder, hello-!), stickers, stamps, pens, post-its, books, that kind of thing; and then there’s things for the home–organizing things, cute little things for the boys (love language = giving, yeah, 100%), dog toys and treats, cleaning equipment, adorable decor, just…stuff. It’s just so easy!
It’s only been one day into #NoNewThings, and I’ve already listed five things on my calendar (a tip from creators Shira Gill and Ashlee Piper: document what you want to get as it occurs to you) that I wanted to buy and totally would have if I weren’t trying this. They’re small things. A book on writing craft (okay, two), command hooks for the house (which, yes, are nice, but we’ve got a few left in our last kit, and honestly, I don’t need them right now), an XL raised dog bed (because the pooch has well outgrown his old one, but he’s also fine on the carpet for now, too, so it’s not urgent), and small hoop earrings I could wear at night (because after having two boys at earring-pulling age back to back, it’s been years and years since I wore regular earrings, and my holes like to close up after too long–BUT AGAIN, they’ve been doing this for years, and it’s not going to get substantially worse in the next month). NONE of these are needs. They’re all wants. So I’m trying to be aware of when those wants pop up and why, and also to keep track of them, so I don’t feel the need to think about them all the time, for fear of forgetting.
It’s funny, though: after just a single day (or more like three days, leading up to today), it’s like the simple act of thinking “No” has opened the valves on the “WANT” dam. I can’t stop coming up with things I’d like to get–stupid little things, new stationary, nothing outrageously expensive, but in that $5-20 dollar range–but even cheap, those things add up over the course of the month. None of it is stuff we can’t afford. That makes it harder, in some ways, because there’s no urgent need not to spend. But it’s still a craving, and I’d like to get a better understanding of where that craving sensation comes from. I dislike how mindless my spending (even minor spending) has become, and how easily I bring stuff into the house.
This is a good time for me to look at what we bring in because we’re on the verge of getting our house to ourselves again. After almost four years, my parents’ in-law suite is almost finished, which means they’ll be able to move in (we hope!) by perhaps the end of the month. I know that the transition will likely tigger a desire to offload and upgrade our household items–to pick “what we really want” for dishes/furniture/etc. to replace what my folks will take with them–now that it’s fully ours to do with as we’d like. But I also want to reduce our things-footprint overall, for one very basic, simple reason:
I HATE CLEANING.
I hate it. There are so many other things I’d rather be doing and/or creating, that taking care of our stuff, our sh*t, our things, is just maddening to me. I’ve never been a naturally tidy person. I got my first taste of the “neat life” in college, due to a crippling conscientiousness that made the thought of inconveniencing my roommate because of my mess absolutely unacceptable. At the same time, however, by keeping things spotless for the sake of the poor individual randomly assigned to live with me, I learned how much I enjoyed a simple, tidy space. I could breathe in a neat space. I felt more relaxed. I learned I liked living that way.
(It also helped that for three semesters, I attended school in Hawaii, two six-hour flights away from home, and to which I could only bring a pair of 50lb suitcases, a carryon, and a pillow. I didn’t bring anything that wasn’t essential, and I loved that simplicity. I still accumulated some things while there and had to offload some stuff at the end of every semester (mini-fridge, anyone?), but I was severely limited in what I could bring and take back with me on the plane. I doubt I could live that simply now, but back then it was a great exercise in living small.)
I still crave that simplicity. Once you have kids and the THINGS multiply exponentially, it’s easy–especially living in a full-sized house–to fill almost every crack and crevice with stuff. It happens without even thinking about it, and usually I only realize how much we have when we move (and become overwhelmed by SO MUCH CRAP).
I long for easy home-care: a uniform template for my closet; basic daily habits; simple and repeatable cleaning routines; easy tidying and a home for everything; basic time-management–all so I can spend my brain time on creative pursuits and having fun with my boys and training the rancor–I mean, the dog–gardening, reading, and simply taking time to sit, be, and enjoy the life we’re building for ourselves.
Sometimes I find the extroverted undercurrent of minimalism off-putting. The idea that getting rid of “things” and spending less on “stuff” means the end goal is going out into the world, traveling a ton, and “making real memories” out and about doing things beyond the home just gives me that sinking anxiety to think about. I like traveling, a bit. I like doing things out and about, some. But what appeals to me most about having less is the visually soothing nest, the sanctuary from the craziness of life, the oasis where you can hear yourself think and replenish your energy. This is in no way to knock my maximalist friends, with their chic, tidy, emporium-style homes full of treasures and textures and color–I like that too, I just know myself enough to know that if I did that, it’d get CRAZY DUSTY and I’m too lazy to keep that much stuff looking sharp like they do. That’s just my own personality–I love visiting their gorgeously decorated homes!
For me, I just want to have space to sit down and read without having to first shuffle away the laundry and snack wrappers and piles of blankets that accumulate so quickly. I like the idea of being able to vacuum easily because I’m not roadblocked by all the crap on the floor 95% of the time. I don’t need totally clear, white counters and everything hidden behind cabinet doors. I like books and an overflowing library. I like a little texture and color (I’m daydreaming of a plant-infested, dark TV room with a leather wrap-around couch and funky rug and dark navy-built-ins and art everywhere–there’s my maximalist streak…mmmmm….).
But I do want to know that we have what we need, and how to find it, so that even the boys can tidy up after themselves easily. I want to be able to clean and dust in a simple, streamlined way without the dread (like now) that every chore requires six unrealized steps before the cleaning can even START. I want a soothing, comfortable, cozy nest, not a home-shaped pile of junk we don’t even really care about.
Simple and cozy. That’s what I want. And this #NoNewThings challenge is a good way for me to start examining my own consumerist habits with a little more skepticism. I’ll try updating how things are going for the next few weeks as the challenge continues and let you know how I’m holding up!
