We’ve decided to retire, get rid of everything, including our two beloved wonderful dogs, and traipse around the planet looking for our forever home. As organized as we are, and as long as we have been planning this move, it is still a daunting chore. We have been living in this house for 25 years; just the two of us in four bedrooms and a 3-car garage. This house is full and lived in.
The first step to purging is not buying stuff in the first place. We have been pretty disciplined in that way. Two or three years ago we vowed not to buy anything new with a plug (on the thought that where we end up, the electrical plug will not be USA and the item no longer useful). With other goods, including clothes, I constantly asked myself if I wanted this item knowing it was only going to be temporary and I would be selling it for pennies on the dollar or carrying it to a donation bin.
Our new attitude about buying and our Costco buying habit were at odds. There still is that voice in my head that tells me if I can get two of something for about the same price as one, I should get the two. Two, extra-large sized somethings. The second item gets stored in the garage and forgotten about. So the next time Costco is having a special $2 off that pack of two, extra-large size somethings, I get it (I mean them) again. When we moved out we found dozens of unopened bottles of cleaning solutions, zip lock bags, mayonnaise, and more, dusty in the garage.
To ease into the task of shedding everything, I take a peel-the-onion approach. First layer is to get rid of my least favorite of a category of item first. For example, let’s talk shoes. I had a bedroom of the house converted into a dressing room. It was beautiful: shoe racks covered two walls up about four feet. All organized by type and color. So, at the beginning of the month, I took my least favorite brown pair of boots, and least favorite black pair, oldest trainers, least favorites of each style of shoe that I own. Then called it done for a while. I found this mentally painful at first. Next month I do the same exercise again. Somehow, my second-least-most-favorite pair of boots is a lot less important to me than it was last month, and I cannot even remember the pair I discarded before them. We were donating a SUV full of clothing about twice a month. Fast forward six months, we still have a very full-looking house.
Try as I might, I cannot use all the bottles and tubes of body lotions and health products, soaps and scented candles tucked away in my three bathrooms. Another naughty company: Bath and Body has a marketing ploy that is an achilles heel for me. The price of one bottle of lotion is some ungodly amount. But once you buy three and get three free, it made sense. And I could get a variety of scents, and I could give some away for little gifts. Trouble is, I never did give any away. Until the end, when I really had to. For the last Christmas at home I arrived at a gathering with a half dozen bins of beauty and bath products and candles (all unopened). Everyone got to fill their own bin of stuff. When things were not popular I bundled them together with other favorites and forced my family to take both.
Selling stuff. I could write several blogs about selling stuff second hand. Craigs list, apps like Offer-Up, garage sales. We tried them all. Picture getting up real early because no matter what you advertise, garage sale shoppers will arrive earlier. I want $5 for a purse that cost $100 and is in perfect condition. I get offers to pay one dollar. Items I want a dollar for, I get offers for a quarter, and then the person gives me a dollar and wants change. People dicker from 25 cents to ten. And then people just plain steal right in front of you. One garage sale was enough. It just was not entertaining enough nor profitable to go through that again! Selling through the apps was a little more successful. And I learned a little about our “differing customs”. One funny example was a young man who was interested in camping gear. His mom contacted me first (he was in his twenties). Seems he was leaving that night on his camping trip and did not have a hydration pack. We had several he could choose from. His mom suggested he may also be interested in a sleeping bag, backpack or really anything else we had camping-wise. She was sending him over right away. I went to the garage to pull the camping gear to the top of the pile and get organized. Kid is late, I keep sorting. Kid is later. Finally I notice I have a half dozen texts from him. He is literally yelling at me over text. He is outside the door. It never occurred to him to ring the doorbell. It never occurred to me that he wouldn’t. Turns out he only wanted the bladder from the hydration pack, and I was not going to pull that out of one of mine. He could have had the whole pack for less than he’ll pay getting just the bladder, but that was his choice. Wonder how his camping trip went without a sleeping bag?
My patio furniture was a popular item. Probably because it was the beginning of summer. It was a large “Living room set”. The set was a couple years old, covered when not in-use (covers included) and in good condition for its age. The first gal that came to look at it was put off because the wicker had settled in one place at the top leaving a gap. It could have been adjusted, but it would certainly settle again. She was upset that I did not divulge that it was not in “Perfect” condition. I mentioned that the set cost $3500 new (Screaming deal at that) and the fact that I was selling it for $200 should have been notice enough for her. I eventually did get my price for the set.
Some things were tough to get rid of, some things were not. The stuff I really coveted and wanted a decent price for, no one else appreciated. And some worthless stuff was prized by others. The saying that “One man’s junk is another man’s treasure”, is certainly true. We had a bidding war for plain, empty terra cotta pots. I had about 20 and they were gone within an hour.
Still with all the time we have allowed ourselves to get this done, at the end we filled every inch of a full-sized Salvation Army truck. Every bit of that stuff and everything else before then, we carried out of our house ourselves.
Slowly the house emptied of stuff. Cars were sold, including my Vespa. Furniture was sold or given away. Potted plants and succulent cuttings disseminated. And the Dogs tucked into their new digs. It was a physically and mentally exhausting exercise. On our last night we had one bed in the house – nothing else. After we awoke from that bed, and headed to the airport, someone was picking it up.
And now we are homeless. Leaving on a jet plane. The journey begins. Stay tuned.