The culling that happens with any downsizing effort should kick the twin beasts of want and really want right in the butt. But not always. You would think that after discarding 75, maybe 80 percent of my worldly goods, that I’d lose interest in acquiring more stuff that I know, absolutely know, I won’t be wanting two years from now.
But we moved into a new, unfurnished apartment and all of a sudden creature comforts seem necessary again.
I’m not talking about a sofa or a bed, or even the new cookware we needed because the induction cooktop is fussy about its pots. Those are needs, not wants.
What I am talking about is this list of non-essentials that I somehow acquired:
dish towels, a fan, lamps, bookshelves, a coffee table, shoe racks, a laundry hamper, that coiled hose, the clothes tree, pillows, bedding, bath mats, trash cans, a magnifying mirror, plants (lots of plants), and a birthday present for Teej, our 17 year old cat -- his very own drinking fountain.
I mean, what the heck happened to my idea of simple living? I’ve done so much shopping lately it scares me.
I am someone who loves beautiful objects, new clothes, and the latest horticultural varieties. Everywhere I look that beast whose mantra is, “I want, I want, I want…’” rears its ugly head.
And I’m still on the hunt for just the right outside plant containers to provide a green screen for our bedroom windows. I keep telling myself that when I am done with that project, that will be the end. Our home will be finished.
But me? I’m still a work in progress.