1999 as in the year or the number of boxes? Yes and yes. Both.

In our Mission to Minimize our possessions, one of our most arduous household tasks was to go through the dozens of storage boxes in our garage which haven’t been opened in years (literally, we had been hoarding some since 1999). In these boxes, we found a ridiculous amount of stuff. Boxes that we previously deemed to keep “forever until the end of time” caused us, now, to seriously question our adolescent judgement. Our garage was absolutely full of containers housing too many “sentimental” objects to number, too many things that we will never use, and taking up entirely too much space.

Trust me, I’m a complete sucker for sentiment, but some of the things we found were knickknacks for which we couldn’t even remember the source. A bunch of pennies strewn about a box classified as “important to keep” really could be put to better use in the kids’ piggy banks. (Were these, perhaps, magic pennies?). Apologies to whoever it was that gave us a rainbow terra cotta elephant plate a decade ago which didn’t make the cut. Thank you for the wishes that accompanied said plate. The good news is that the plate will soon find its way into the hands of its rightful owner who is looking for just such a purchase at Goodwill. (And so will the hundreds, if not thousands, of miscellaneous items that made their way to the Goodwill Express near us. I’m actually embarrassed at this point at the frequency of our visits to the donation center. I always imagine the employees rolling their eyes when they see our car – I know, it’s ridiculously egotistical to think they remember us so well. The poor souls probably just remember our crap. [For the record, we’re aware the Goodwill is not the most socially conscious enterprise of its kind, but when you have an intense need to purge your possessions immediately, we convince ourselves that the lavish car driven by the CEO matters less than someone walking into the store and being able to excitedly purchase a $50 doodad for $2.]).

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Insanity. Absolute insanity. Every day. I can’t fathom how we lived before with every toy housed in the open family room space. Sure, there were bins for organization. The musical instruments here, the blocks there, stuffed animals over here. Everything was in reach. Everything was on the floor. It took about 30 minutes every night to put all this stuff in order. At the end of the day, every single toy in the house was strewn about the room. Yes, yes, we tried to abide by the “put this away first before you get a new toy out.” Lets just say that it wasn’t hugely successful. It was maddening.

We decided to minimize. Instead of keeping 8 bins of toys in accessible cabinets, we would only leave 2 bins out containing assorted objects. It was definitely a step in the right direction, but how was it that at the end of the day, there were toys still all over the floor despite the fact that they had only been played with for a grand total of 5 minutes collectively? It was still too much. Somehow, even this reduction wasn’t enough.

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There was really no precipice. All of a sudden, the contents of our house just went from being desirable to being an absolute nuisance. Up until a couple of years ago, our familial mentality was basically, “Yes, we’ll take these bizilbigs, blumtoopas, and wums. We might need them someday.” We stored these random objects in an assortment of boxes, which until very recently were filled to capacity. It may have been the arrival of our second child a year and a half ago that spawned this need to purge our possessions. Adding one little person to our living space may have been the breaking point in not being able to functionally fit in our space.

I liken humans to an organic substance that grows to fit into absolutely any volume. No matter what size your space is, you will grow into it. If you take a family of four living comfortably in a 1,000 sq. foot house and transplant the same people into a 2,500 sq. foot house, there is little doubt that those same four people will magically inhabit the entirety of the larger house to the same capacity as they had their smaller dwelling. We do have friends and family that are able to maintain an amazing amount of order in their homes regardless of square footage. Their beautiful living rooms are always immaculate and airy. I have an aunt whose house has not changed in literally decades. Every tea cup can be found in the exact spot in which it was housed circa 1976. Bless your pristine organization techniques and being able to maintain such structure. We, on the other hand, are the people that return from vacation and walk around a still-packed suitcase for a month before realizing that we’re missing a shoe. Even if we are getting a bit better about this, maintaining our 1,000 sq. feet of living space is really the maximum of our capabilities.

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Let’s just face it, as much as it pains me to say this, unless that puffy-sleeved pirate shirt makes you feel fabulous, you probably won’t wear it. The same goes for all the other clothing you’re hoarding. I venture to say that this is true for most people. I know for certain that it’s the case for me. When I open my closet, each article of clothing gives me a certain feeling. If it gives me an uncomfortable feeling just looking at it, I’ll never wear it.

There are select items which I reach for most because they fit perfectly and make me feel happy when I wear them. These pieces have no “tight in awkward places,” “should be worn very carefully,” “do not sit or bend in an awkward angle,” “requires special accessory amendment,” “do not wear while attempting to chase a toddler” moments. I simply know that when I wear anything in this category, I will be comfortable and happy and I won’t be concerned about some kind of unfortunate wardrobe malfunction.

Conversely, there are (or were) things in my closet that made me grimace every time I came across them – and that’s before even putting these things on. When I looked at these objects, I was reminded of tight sleeves, pull-inducing waistline, too much transparency, etc. In short – these articles of clothing just didn’t make me feel good. Here is what I have come to realize: if I feel this way just by looking at this stuff, there is about a 1% chance that it will end up on my body and an even slimmer chance that if it ends up on me, that I will leave the house wearing that particular item. So why then are these things living in my closet? Why are they compromising the airiness of my wardrobe? Why are they mocking me with their high maintenance demands on a daily basis?

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