Downsize to Rightsize

It’s been a busy few weeks around here. Travel, puppy sitting and purging. And by purging I mean the kind where you go through a closet, setting aside a great part of its contents for a garage sale, and think, “Who needs all this shit?”

I’m not alone. This past weekend, a friend and former colleague who lives in California crafted several Facebook posts about her family’s garage sale. Her unbridled joy in unloading a bunch of crap leapt off the screen. Getting rid of unnecessary possessions made her happy. I get it. Last night, another friend and high school classmate posted a link to this NYT piece about living with less and commented on how she looked forward to downsizing from their currently too-large home. I couldn’t agree more, and in fact, being overwhelmed by space and stuff is one of the prime reasons why we are selling our home and moving into smaller digs in the city.

When we lived in Chicago, we had a condo that fit us just right. Enough room for us, a dog, our stuff and a kitchen I really enjoyed. It was little enough space inside that when we window shopped together, we’d agree that there was no place to put whatever we were looking at, so our wallets remained closed and we went on living. When John’s job took us back East to DC, we first settled in a townhouse in Old Town Alexandria. Our stuff barely fit, and we purged a lot of crap we honestly didn’t even know we had. After a series of Purple Heart pickups, I realized that I missed nothing, I repeat, NOTHING of what we had purged. And we went on living.

And then came the big mistake. We bought a house in the ‘burbs, to be exact, the close-in suburb of Arlington that claims to be urban and progressive. Hah. We got seduced by the idea of plenty of space for our stuff, a yard for Lou Lou to chill in, a man cave for John in the basement, room for a home gym and a 2-car garage. We drank the kool-aid of American Consumerism. We then started to work with an architect to expand and upgrade the home. The project took on a life of its own; we were creating a home that other people would want to live in, a home too big for our needs. Our conversations centered around the house, not planning out next trip or which new hike to try with Lou Lou. We weren’t living.

I’ve learned that mistakes are fixable, and so we’re set on a course to fix that mistake. The house goes on the market soon and we’re working on finding a rental in DC. Every place I’ve looked at in the neighborhoods we’re targeting is smaller than our current space and it makes me giddy to think of having less stuff. I’m applying a ruthless lack of sentimentality as I gut closets and drawers, separating things into keep, toss and garage sale piles. We’ve spent a great deal of time in DC trying out new neighborhoods. We feel like we’re living again.

What is this living, you say? For me, it’s simply about experiences over stuff and exploring over collecting. If you gave me a bunch of money and asked me to pick a trip or a bunch of new furniture or clothes, I’d take the trip every time. You can’t take it with you, really, so live it up while you’re here. Oh, and pass me that Hefty bag while you’re at it, I’ve got some more stuff to throw away.