You know when you move house once or twice, make it thrice and swear that your next address will be your last? You even seriously start considering buying a place of your own, until your jolted back to reality; when you check the market rates and suffocating interest rates, not to mention the insecurity that your current job is? That’s me, right now. I don’t qualify for the shopaholic category, I am very minimal. Make no mistake, I like style and good things, but am too lazy to go to the stores. I am the reason online shopping was invented, but I still keep it minimal, something me and my fiancé differ about. So at this moment in time, I regret ever purchasing anything classified as a want. As I pack, dispose, pack then dispose again, I have purposed to re-define the term ‘my wants’ so far I think that,
- Fit in a 10 litre trash bag *so that I can slowly start thinking of them as just that – trash*
- Be acquirable using coins, considering that at any given time I will only have sufficient coins for the parking slot machines.
- Compliment my needs * Am at loss for words as I try to figure out what drove me to purchase 4 similar looking-glass vases whose lifetime has been spent in kitchens’ top most shelf*
- Be easy to dispose, pass over to someone, sell or just toss out. Amazing how my wants suddenly insist on becoming needs when it’s time to pack and move.
- Increasingly have a mutually exclusive relationship with my needs – that is after I have achieved number 3 above.
- Be considerate, other people in my household have wants too!!!
Let me see how much success I achieve at putting into practice my re-defined wants bucket.
I am almost certain that my recurring headache may be as a result of fist fights doing rounds in my brain. For the first time ever, I decided to take advantage of social media – flea market Turku a vibrant Facebook page has taught me never to underestimate the power of a single
digit euro. I am doing a darn good job at disposing my precious stuff wants. I have noticed that attaching a value to my used stuff and realizing that somebody somewhere is looking for exactly what i deem almost useless, motivates me to kill the hoarding temptation and graciously pass my stuff over *give them a new home*
So far, I have dealt with a 15% of the easiest stuff to dispose. Am filled with dread (considering I have to lose 90% of it all) as I go through my wardrobe and once more the wants vs need battle begins. So I have come up with a rational(i think) disposal method.
Whatever can fetch me a dime goes in one heap, it’s christmas so why not have a heap destined for the Salvation Army dumpsters not too far from my apartment? Then there is the hoard category – I must hold on to something especially, my now very worn out khanga, it was my grandmothers. The tossing, sorting, disposing and fist fights *in my brain* continue.
The excitement and adrenaline rush as I anticipate the move to the unknown is the real reason there is some level of sanity in me.