HOT TIP // Workhorses

Find this and other tips for creating space in a small house in this guide from Redfin.

Some objects are so useful, they can replace 3 other items. I call these workhorses.

A workhorse is highly functional, durable, and versatile. The indirect way find to identify your workhorses is by doing the corkscrew test, especially for kitchen items and clothing.

Remember, the corkscrew test is these three questions:

• Is there an alternative to the tool that would work just as well?

• Do you do that job so frequently that your life would be markedly easier with that specific tool?

• Is the tool challenging to store, to keep in working order, to keep clean?

When I interrogated a handful of bud vases, a trio of warped, stained plastic tupperware, and a pack of disposable party cups, the answer to what could I use instead was the same: the set 12 oz quilted jelly jars I already owned. The jars are versatile, durable, and dishwasher safe. Total workhorses.

A small wooden cutting board moonlights as a cheese board, a trivet, and a weight for holding cookbooks open.

A comfortable, high-quality, machine-washable sweater can be dressed up for a party, dressed down for running errands, and dressed way, way down for a rainy day of heavy couch-sitting.

We might need to think flexibly about them to unlock all of the uses each of our items possess, but when we use our workhorses to their full potential, we can own less stuff overall.

HOT MESS // Inhospitality

For all the clutter we stash in them, “guest rooms” can start to feel like a real misnomer.

“Dusty Seasonal Decor Room” or “Boxes We Never Unpacked from the Move Room'' might be more fitting. 

It makes sense to have our guest rooms serve double duty in our homes instead of standing completely underutilized for all but a few days of the year. This is especially true for us urban dwellers wanting to make the most of our limited square footage. 

The challenge becomes when we use our guest rooms to store things instead of to do things. Having a bed in the room in which we otherwise make art, or do yoga, or practice guitar, is very different than having a bed in the room we stash bins and boxes.

Activity in a space gives the room a sense of purpose and energy. Storage in a space gives the room a sense of stagnation and heaviness. We don’t want to sleep in a storage unit, and neither do our guests.

We should maintain our guest spaces at the lowest possible clutter threshold we can manage. This assumes the likely scenario that someone we’ll host has a lower threshold than ourselves and acknowledges that our possessions may feel like clutter to our guests who have no personal connection to them. 

When our guests arrive, they should be able to hang their clothes in a closet that stores little else but linens for the guest bed. They should be able to stow their suitcase on the wide, clear floor. They should be able to lay out their essentials on the clear desktop. 

If we find ourselves with a space that can’t be truly hospitable to our guests, we should be willing to put them up somewhere tidy.

HOT TIP // Buy Nothing

For all the flaws and follies of Facebook that cause me to avoid this platform in my personal life, one shining phenomenon rises above: The Buy Nothing Project. 

I always caution clients against running a “home-based consignment shop,” in which we try to coordinate a sale for everything we’re decluttering. The few dollars are rarely worth the time and energy of haggling a price with a Craigslist rando. 

Instead, we can gift that item directly to a neighbor through the Buy Nothing Project.

The Buy Nothing Project started as a hyperlocal gift economy between neighbors who wanted to reduce their environmental impact. It’s since evolved to include chapters in neighborhoods around the world, including my little corner of the world in Southeast Baltimore. 

Group members post items that they’d like to give away or receive. No money, no bartering, no haggling, no let’s-meet-in-public-in-case-you’re-a-murderer. Just pure generosity and social connection with our neighbors. 

The environmental benefits are myriad: less production of new stuff, less items sent to landfills, less carbon emissions when we can pick up what we need at our neighbor’s house down the block instead of driving to a big box store.

There are obvious financial benefits, too. When neighbors can spend less money on the stuff they need in that season of life (e.g. the kids’ stuff that fits them for precisely 12 days), they have more money available to buy essentials and experiences from local businesses. 

But the end game is not just healthier ecosystems and bank accounts, but healthier neighborhoods. When we know and trust our neighbors because we gifted them a serving tray and borrowed their power drill, we’re happier and healthier individuals. Less clutter, more community, y’all.

HOT MESS // Habituation

Everybody has had the thought: “How is my partner/roommate/child/parent/friend so oblivious to this huge hot mess?!” But before we judge them, we have to talk about habituation. 

People really do stop seeing a mess after a while. This invisibility isn’t neglect, it’s neurological. Our brains are always on the lookout for new and unexpected information, an adaptation that was particularly useful when we had to notice the predator slinking through the grass and the fruit ripening on the vine. 

But the flipside of being attuned to novelty is being unaffected by sameness. That’s called habituation: we might have had a strong response to a stimulus at first, but, over time, our response will be less intense after repeated exposure to that stimulus. 

We might have noticed when a pile of our shoes built up by the door, and we might have felt bothered by it. But if the pile remained day after day, week after week, our brains would become habituated to that sight and we’d feel very little about the pile, if we even registered it’s presence at all. 

That mess only becomes stimulating again when we see it in a photo we snapped of our space, or when we imagine how a guest to our home will experience it. Nothing like inviting people over to shake us out of our habituation. 

The good news is that once we get our house in order, we’re habituated to clear surfaces and tidy storage, and then even a small mess is very novel to our brain. We notice it, we respond strongly to it, and we can tackle it then and there, before it fades from our awareness.

HOT TIP // Don't Be So Possessive

I like bowling, but I’m not about to invest in my own personal bowling shoes. That’s fine, because I can rent shoes at the bowling alley the 2ish times a year that I’ll go bowling. I don't have to own them.

I like swimming pools, but I’m not about to build a pool in my postage stamp patio. That’s fine, because I can pay a few bucks to go to the Patterson Park pool. I don't have to own it.

I really like beach houses, but I’m not about to purchase a second home. That’s fine, because I can rent one for a lovely vacation. Say it with me now: I don't have to own it.

 We rent or become members to avoid purchases that are too impractical all the time, but I don’t think we extend this behavior far enough. People used to bathe at public baths, and bake their bread in public ovens.

What if we avoided purchases that were practical, but not necessary?

What about renting or borrowing things even if we can technically afford them and fit them into our homes?

 Sure, I can afford a $16 book. But I can also use the public library to borrow books, movies, music, ebooks, and magazines, and then return them rather than store them.

 I’m not even talking about founding the democratic distributist commune of my dreams. (That's the subject of a much longer blog post.)  I’m talking about basic urban amenities that we all contribute to with our taxes and/or with membership fees: libraries of all kinds, public parks and recreation, bike/ scooter/ car shares, gyms, coworking spaces, etc.

These are great for freeing up space in our homes, but also for making our use of these objects more social and less private. I'm all about more community, less clutter. 

What “possessions” could you “store” in Baltimore instead of your basement?

HOT MESS // Special Occasions

I was boiling water to make tea for my sore throat when I hesitated over the 4 tea bags left. I worried. Should I hold off for now in case of a worse sore throat later?

This is intentional consumption taken to an illogical extreme. I had a sore throat right then. I had soothing tea in my possession right then. Why would I suffer in the present on behalf of some hypothetical future version of me? Future me will be perfectly capable of picking up more tea.

Gretchen Rubin encourages us to “spend out” the things we have. Rubin once saved a favorite bottle of perfume for so long it spoiled in the bottle, and she laments all those ordinary days she deemed not special enough to wear it. To have run out of perfume would’ve been preferable to running out of time to use said perfume.

For those of us neurotics not in the overindulgent YOLO camp, we can struggle to actually use our favorite things. We wonder if we’re worthy of the “luxury” of something as pedestrian as herbal tea, let alone our finest wine, our nicest sweaters, our good dishes. 

This doesn’t bode well for the level of clutter in our homes. We’ll hold on to lots and lots of stuff for everyday use because we’re too precious about our favorite things. Meanwhile, our truly favorite things gather dust awaiting a day that’s “special” enough for them. 

When we use that second-tier stuff, we’ll feel little sources of friction as we go about our tasks. 

When we use our best things, we instead feel little moments of gratitude for the beautiful design, craftsmanship, or memories therein.

HOT MESS// No Einstein

Once, as I was telling a self-proclaimed slob about my minimalist home and my business, they quoted Einstein: “If a cluttered desk is the sign of a cluttered mind, of what then is an empty desk a sign?”

Let’s ignore for a moment the implication that I have an empty mind. Rude.

Yes, I’ve seen Einstein’s desk. I’ve also seen his equation for general relativity. And his hair. 

I am not Einstein. His desk, his hairdo, and his contributions to the field of physics are not aspirational for me. (Now, the fact that he wore his signature leather jacket for years is. I love life uniforms.)

I don’t need a messy desk to do my most creative writing. I don’t need a messy kitchen to do my best cooking. I don’t need a messy closet to put together my best outfits.

In fact, I now know that I need space, and clear surfaces, and streamlined systems to concentrate and create. My desk can become messy when I’m in the throes of work, but when I’m done for the day I put.my.stuff.away. I look forward to the peace that comes from an emptied mind.

 If that makes me a non-genius, so be it. I’m content to live an ordinary (and tidy) life in my little corner of the world.

And to all the slobs out there using Einstein’s desk to justify their own mess and excess, here’s something else Einstein said:  “A table, a chair, a bowl of fruit, a violin; what more does a man need to be happy?”

HOT TIP // Give Gifts to Your Future Self

With the latest gift giving season still fresh in mind and the new season of resolutions underway, I’ve been thinking about how I give gifts to myself.

If you subscribe to Gary Chapman’s argument, gift-giving is one way to express love to another person. And we can express love and appreciation to ourselves by giving a gift to our future selves.

This gift might come in the form of an experience I want to have: concert tickets, a membership to a museum, lessons or a class, etc.

This might come in the form of an object that supports the life I want to live. If I want to reach for water instead of soda, I can purchase a refillable water bottle that looks and feels great to me. If I want to support myself in exercising outdoors, I can purchase sturdy hiking boots. I just need to keep in mind that owning the gear is not the same as doing the activity- for that I need to schedule and protect time.

Time, and it’s close companion, space, don’t fall neatly into the conception of gifts that Chapman describes. I can’t wrap up a free hour, or a clear mind, or an empty shelf with a bow. But those are the gifts I want to give myself most.

‘Someday’ means never—there will probably never be a point when I have more energy or more motivation than I have right now. I know my life will grow and change, but I can be certain that new responsibilities and interests will pop up for me as time goes on. I’ll appreciate entering those next phases of life less burdened by stuff and obligations that won’t serve me.

So I work very hard to do a solid for future me by decluttering an object (or an obligation, if possible) when I start to feel less than positive feelings towards it.

Future me is going to feel just as doubtful about the sweater that is a little too big for me.

Future me is going to feel just as annoyed about digging through a pile of unloved socks to find my favorite pair.

Future me is going to feel the same pang of guilt and inadequacy seeing that book I “should” read collecting dust.

I can let these objects go now, to clear out time and space for future me.

If “get organized” is your New Year’s Resolution, I invite you to reconsider. By all means, get organized. I’ll help! But don’t think of that as a resolution to be maintained over the course of the year, but rather as a gift you’re giving to yourself now. Then you can make more ambitious resolutions about your goals, not just about your stuff.

HOT TIP // Clear the Brush

You know those “burn-it-down” memoirs? In book after book, women become so fed up with their daily lives that they completely explode it with drastic and dramatic measures.

While I’m intrigued by the freedom of starting from scratch, I can’t help but experience these memoirs as more of a cautionary tale than a how-to guide. 

How did daily life slip into something so unbearable for these women? 

How can I prevent my own life from devolving into such unbridled desperation? 

How can I “clear out the brush” of my life to ensure there’s less kindling for a five-alarm wildfire?

I think about sustainability often; how long can I endure my life as it is without losing my whole mind? One year? One month? One day only? 

The specifics of these burn-it-down stories vary, but I find at the heart of each one is the fact that fear and inattention led to a life that was not sustainable.

Fear prevented the protagonists from being authentic and present-focused, and then they felt small and stressed in their own life. 

Inattention led to professional and personal ruts, unhealthy habits and dependencies, and inertia that made them feel disconnected from their own life. 

Lucky for me, I have plenty of practice confronting fear and inattention in myself and in my clients through decluttering. Bravely and intentionally clearing out clutter and curating what is joyful, valuable, relevant, and meaningful makes my life feel more sustainable. My home reflects my goals, and I know how to evolve both my stuff and my space should those goals change.

What is the brush in your life? Let’s clear it now.

HOT MESS // Tsundoku

Tsundoku is a Japansese word meaning the practice of buying books but never reading them, and accumulating piles of unread books throughout your house. Even people who decry consumerism, excess, and compulsive shopping in all other forms fall prey to tsundoku. 

In fact, in my experience, it’s the very people who fancy themselves as intellectuals, immune to the siren song of stuff, that cling most to piles of books to symbolize their deep personas to the world. 

Admittedly, I love the potential represented in a pile of new books. But anything that’s languishing unutilized in our homes is gear, and gear does not translate to action. 

A pile of books doesn’t equate to time spent reading anymore than a pile of dirty clothes equates to time spent doing laundry; we do the verb (reading, washing) when we have the time, not when we have the pile.

 If anything, the bigger the pile of books/laundry, the more avoidant we feel when we see it. How could we possibly tackle a pile that big?! Better turn on the TV instead...

Some folks prevent tsundoku by going digital, accumulating unread e-books that take up space on a Kindle rather than on a coffee table. I can’t speak to that; I try to avoid digital clutter as well as physical, and I look for ways to actively reduce the time I spend looking at screens. Analogue books are the only books for me.

My prevention for tsundoku is to borrow my books from the library. Have I mentioned that I love the library? The books are not mine indefinitely, which spurs me to actually carve out time to read them. The library sends me email reminders when my loans have been renewed or are coming due, which prompts me to complete the books before a deadline.

Of course, I’ve borrowed books from the library and then not read them. But I return them on time, trusting that I can always put them on hold and borrow them again if I need to. The library can serve as my personal book warehouse, so my home doesn’t have to.

HOT TIP // Keep it Fungible

If I could enroll in one class at Hogwarts, it would be Transfiguration, no question. I’d love the power to turn something irrelevant into something beautiful and useful. (Also, Professor McGonagall, duh.)

Sadly, I’m a Muggle, and stuff is not fungible. I can’t convert one of my several scarves into a warm pair of gloves. 

Money, on the other hand, is fungible. The same dollar bill can go towards a new pair of mittens or a haircut or groceries or a holiday gift or our retirement savings. 

We often overlook the magical versatility of a dollar bill and foolishly convert our money into impulse purchases aka future clutter.

When we feel we don’t have enough money, we can respond with compulsive purchasing. We think “I’d better get this now, or I else I might not have the chance to get it at all!”

It certainly doesn’t help that marketers exploit that fear ruthlessly, manufacturing urgency and FOMO with one-day sales, promo codes, BOGO deals, clearance racks, and coupons.

The irony of course is that we spend the magical money we do have on things we don’t need now (or at all), instead of saving those dollars to pay for our imminent needs and obligations. The result is less dollars in our accounts and more clutter in our homes: lose-lose.

Say what you will about money being the root of all evil, but money enables complete strangers to trust and trade with each other, takes up no space in our homes, doesn’t require dusting or batteries, and can become anything we need as long as we don’t squander it on junk. That’s pretty magical.

HOT TIP // Audition

When we do some weeding of our wardrobes, the “absolutely yes” pile is returned to our closets and the “definitely no” pile is donated.  It’s that “hmm...maybe” pile that lingers, inspiring procrastination and avoidance if we’re not proactive.

I encourage clients to use the maybe pile sparingly and temporarily, but sometimes we truly don’t know if something should stay or go. We need more information, and the solution is the audition.

The audition is not just a try-on. It’s a try-out. We must wear those clothes out into the world and test drive them in our actual lives. As we go about our business in that outfit, we pay attention: Is it itchy? Is it constrictive? Are we self-conscious or fidgety or fussy?

I just auditioned a maybe-pile dress to a dinner party. The sleeves were too tight and the neckline was too low, and I spent the evening adjusting and squirming. That’s all the information I need to add it to the donations box. I auditioned a skirt for a day of running errands, pairing it with a pair of warm tights and a new sweater. Later I asked myself: how many times was I cognizant of my outfit today? The answer was zero, which is the best answer of all. That skirt is a keeper.

When we make our maybe pile audition for the few coveted spots in our closet, we make quick work of our initial indecision and curate a wardrobe of items we love to wear.