DITCHING THE CLUTTER
Finally letting go of Grimace
If you want human interaction and a sudden wave of new friends, start giving away your broken crap!
It’s not exactly the lesson I expected in the first week of the Minimalism Game, but as a weakwilled hoarder and materialist, it’s not like the suffocating allure of objects is some great mystery. Giving away 496 objects over December was bound to rearrange some molecules, never mind expose me to understandable social media criticism for going on about the least interesting thing to talk about at length, like, ever.
Right out of the gate, two offers came in for the big colonial model ship in the first photo the Journal used to illustrate the start of the decluttering project. And, even after I explained my old Nintendo console is deader than the crater-tattooed skin of Pluto, there are seemingly reasonable people out there willing to take anything video-game-related into their hearts, happy to tear it to shreds for parts — perhaps nobly saving the life of a less fortunate Nintendo Entertainment System involved in a tragic … um … living room collision? The imagination wanders …
Yet, even the radiotherapy mask of a dead friend was quickly whistled for as soon as the daily post went up, while the second a literally useless, broken-in-half Gretzky clock showed up at the office to be photographed, my cubicle mate Tristin Hopper — new to the Make Something Edmonton of Champions — was eyeing it as if it was a steaming, juicy roast, perhaps something he could use as a sort of lubricant to aid his local cultural assimilation. Just start whining about potholes and “shiny balls,” my friend — you’ll be one of us in no time!
On the flip side, I interacted with hundreds of cheerful people on social media, through email and even on CBC’s Radioactive, as Rod Kurtz patiently asked me to explain why an adult man would carry numerous mushroom-shaped Grimace figurines through his sunset days.
Sometimes using #yegminimal, many have been sharing pictures of their disposed-of ephemera, offering suggestions of where to send old clothes and other non-garbage. If nothing else, it’s gratifying to know there are a number of fellow garbage squirrels out there filled with object shame — truly, we are not alone. Know this: It’s not too late to join in!
My pregnant sister is even playing along. If only she was due on Dec. 31 to outdo all other contenders for coolest released object: a (presumably) human child.
On the subject of family, my wife decided to play the game at the same time and, being better than me at pretty well everything, worked ahead — but took it upon herself to give away a number of bottle openers I brought into our lives.
Crying “Unfair!” I stole them back from her physical outbox, which my loyal cat has been using as a bed and subsequently barfed in for good measure.
Of course, after a week of this process, we’re only at 28 items down.
And all too soon, I’ll be scraping that many things and more off my life like so much foot cheese every day, and that later stage of the Minimalism Game terrifies me.
No, seriously. I’m really, really scared.