1. The other week, we watched Minimalism: A Documentary about the Important Things, produced by The Minimalists, a couple of endearing best buddies in their thirties - mainly because it featured Courtney Carver of Be More with Less, whose blog I follow. The film began with a series of very short takes which seemed designed to attract the Twitter generation, and I thought I was going to be disappointed. Yet, suddenly, I found myself hooked, even though that format continued, and I knew about most of the trends and arguments discussed.
Even so, it didn't leave me wanting to leap up, throw out all our possessions, and move into a house the size of our chicken coop. As I pondered why, I realised it wasn't because the documentary isn't inspiring, but because we've been editing our lives for months, and we're actually at a plateau that suits our family right now. (Or I'm over that obsession and about to embark on a new one. But let's not go there.)
But we don't all have perfectly organised closets, own only fifty-one items, or live in a 200-square foot house. So here, in all honesty, no styling for photos, is our selectively minimalist life. And when I say "no styling" this excuses my non-existent photographic skills, and the fact that our house was built before most people had cameras or House Beautiful existed, and just doesn't present great angles. Plus the low, blinding Mississippi winter sun photobombed everything.
2. Middle daughter: This is her Marie Kondo-inspired chest of drawers. Note the hip, one-handle-missing look.
And this is her bathroom before cleaning day. Actually, this wasn't a bad week - I was sort of disappointed.
3. These are all the toys our toddler owns.
OK, there is his "cave". I said I'd throw it out for Advent, but it's still here. Maybe Easter???
Of course, he turns anything in the house, especially kitchen items, into toys. And raids his sisters' old toys, so he's not deprived.
But this is his changing area in a corner of our bedroom. We do cloth and disposable diapers, and he can get through three outfits a day by drooling/ running through puddles/ falling face down in the chicken coop, so I'm resigned to an overflowing area until he's older (not much older, please God).
4. Eldest daughter has basically moved out so her dorm room is her affair. I keep hinting at her clearing her stuff out when she comes back for short stays, but she never gets around to it. One day, I might break down and 'edit' her room for her. My mother-in-law eventually boxed up each of her three sons' things and sent them on. 'Our' box is unopened in the attic. Sometimes we debate about what's in there. Maybe one day we'll look.
5. This is our closet. I've Konmarie'd it twice, but I still haven't got it down to only ten items made of organic, naturally dyed, sustainably produced cotton. Those are mostly my clothes on the bottom rails (with some of my husband's at the back) except for four pairs of leggings in my underwear drawer. Since it's a tiny space carved out of a 1907 house, and impossible to photograph with a cell phone, I counted my clothes out of curiosity: it came to about 65 items. I've no idea where that comes on the minimalism scale. I have ten pairs of shoes/boots. Two are summer and evening dress shoes, which I guess is frivolous (but they're children's shoes, so I didn't spend a bomb). And, of course, there's the extra pair of converse I found in a ditch. My husband threw out three pairs of shoes last time I cleaned out the closet. A fourth, a pair of dress shoes, threw themselves out by coming apart while we were at a posh gala the other weekend.
(Aside. Saying "my husband" is starting to look repetitive. Maybe I'll have to come up with a blog alias. "The mathematician"?)
6. These are our bookshelves. I think this is pretty spartan for two academics, one of whom is an English teacher. (OK, disclaimer: all of my husband's maths books are in his office). I always thought I couldn't give up books, until I read about a retiring clergyman who gave away a third of his collection and explained how spiritually lightening it was. The comment planted a slow-growing seed. A couple of other things helped: when we finally got these built-in bookshelves and put our collections together, we realised we had at least thirty duplicates. And the Mississippi climate took care of a huge number of our older paperbacks - maybe the only thing I can thank the MS weather for.
7. This one you can't see, because I finished digitizing all our photos last month. I was so proud, I allowed myself the treat of throwing out my two pairs of garden shoes with holes and buying one new pair of wellies. I think that counts as being minimalist.
But you know what, working on this post got me itching to get rid of more stuff. While I go to look for something to throw away, why don't you save paper and visit some of the other blogs via Kelly's link up at This Ain't the Lyceum?