Minimalist

Becoming a Minimalist

I have too much stuff. And I HATE it. It’s not even all mine, either. It’s my sisters and my mothers and my future kid’s. I have about 15 things in this house that are mine. I know I should get rid of it. I mean come on. I’m the only wannabe minimalist in my family, and they just don’t understand why I would want to throw away “perfectly good shoes for your future children to wear” I rolled my eyes when my sister said it then and I roll my eyes now. I thought if I showed her and my mother what a disaster my house was they would take some of the things they had dumped on me and take them home, or better take them to the charity shop. Only the plan backfired On me. “well you can’t get rid of your prom dress Isabel. Your daughter might want to walk in her mother’s footsteps. And how do you expect her to do so if she doesn’t have your dress?” she fingered the dress in question. “Izzy you should just buy some vacuum bags if you think their taking up room. That’s what I did and it’s like I barely have them!” called my sister Julie from the other side of my basement, lost in the sea of clutter.  I opened and closed my mouth for lack of words then spluttered “that’s the point! I don’t want them AT ALL.” I was waving my hands again like I do when I’m trying to get someone to understand what I’m trying to say. My mother gave me a stern look, and I knew I wasn’t getting through to her “now Isabel. These have been in the family for generations!” she swept her hand toward a large bag of marbles that I was planning to sell on eBay, and said “and you want to want to just GIVE them to some random stranger who won’t even know their history?” I resisted the urge to scream “YES!! I WANT THEM TO BE SOMEONE ELSE’S PROBLEM!” instead I merely nodded and said “I don’t have a use for marbles, mom, nor do I have any children to clothe with my old school clothes and prom dresses. And you know I want NONE of these shoes, or pictures, or freaking lampshades! I just want to be able to grab a backpack with all my priced objects inside and then catch a plane to Paris or the Bahamas.” Julie shook her head and sighed “Izzy. I know your motto.” I blurted it out before I could stop myself “’Less Mess, Less Stress’!” She rolled her eyes and said “yeah that. But think! With all these things you can see where you come from!” she’s a lot like our mother, Julie is. I’m more like my dad. He hated mom’s obsession with keeping memorabilia. I’m pretty sure that’s why he left; of course they never actually got divorce. Just one morning mom came to my room and said “your fathers gone. What do you want for breakfast?” “OK so here is what’s going to go down. I’m going to pack all this crap up in my van and haul it to the closest goodwill. So you two can either add to the throw away pile or bring what you want to your houses. Either way this junk is going to be out of my house by tomorrow morning. So if you want to go buy it back be my guest but I’m going to say I tried to stop you when they find your rotting bodies underneath your mountains of SHIT.”

Well on the bright side I have only MY things in my house now, nothing but the carpet in the basement, and I made enough money selling the valuable stuff on EBay I can pay for that trip to Jamaica I have wanted forever. On the other hand I think I have been disowned by both my mother and my sister after my little outburst. Which is totally fine with me, I don’t want to be weighed down by drama anymore.

JAMAICA HERE I COME!