Pollyism of the week
Lying on the table while Sara attends to my eyelashes, we get on to all sorts of interesting topics. Generally, they involve movies, music and Netflix.
She tries to talk about The Bachelor, but I kick her in the face. (I don’t, really! Though I guess you’ll never know, eh?)
So Sara was doing my lashes and she asked me if I’d seen the doco TheMinimalists on Netflix. I’d seen it zoom by as an option as I muttered about having finished both LoveSick and Love. Oh, and Vikings. But I thought it might make me feel a bit guilty about my slight shopping issues. Gulp.
That night, I begged my partner to stop watching Black HawkDown for the 90th time and watch TheMinimalists with me. Why do all men love BlackHawkDown? It’s like watching torture and misery on repeat. They can get that at home, surely? So after much begging and sighing (I’m such a reasonable grown-up woman), he agreed and we watched.
It started with my man making fun and me getting irritated, but actually the longer we watched, the more inspired I became. I needed to rein it in, get rid of anything I didn’t use and completely cut back on consumerism.
I began immediately. I got Tim to hide my credit cards. Not a great sacrifice as they’re all maxed anyway. Then I totally reorganised my pantry, threw out heaps of crapola from the bathroom cupboard and came to the resolution my wardrobe could wait ’til next week. The next brave move was becoming cashless. I decided it would be harder to buy stuff and nonsense without cash in my wallet.
So now, I’ve got no cards, no cash, minimal kitchen and bathroom, plus ... wait, flaw in plan ... no money for the bus! I had two options: 1. Walk for miles in desert sun (slight exaggeration) or 2. Scramble about the apartment looking for spare change. One zone would cost me $2. I found 60c in the junk drawer. Damn! Forgot to minimise junk drawer, but on the flip side ... Now I only needed another $1.40. I found a dollar in 10 and 20c pieces under the lounge cushions. Still 40c short! This exercise had taken 30 minutes. I could have walked there by now.
Determined to succeed, I rummaged through my winter coat pockets. Nothing. Final place to look before going into my son’s room and lowering myself to stealing from the poor wee waif, I checked the bottom of the fruit bowl. Voila! Forty cents. The last $2 cash in the world in my jeans pocket and the bus due in three minutes.
My, I do love the freedom of no clutter. There’s something about it that allows me to breathe deeply. Watch the doco and see what you think, but it’s probably a good idea to think a little harder than I did about no source of money anywhere except the bottom of a bowl of withering fruit.
Go on, chuck something out. You’ll feel great. Just not the TV – that might annoy people.