Stuff

I have this weird fantasy. It's not what you think--it's way weirder. I lie on my back on the floor of my room and look around and imagine that I could inventory every single thing I own--each and every book, each and every knick-knack, each and every bit of junk--and then rank everything according to how much I want to keep that thing, and then get rid of the bottom third of things. This is a recurring fantasy, one that I've wasted so much time on I probably could have actually done it by now. Not that I would actively choose to waste time on it. But there I lie anyway, thinking... would I rather keep this wooden salad bowl that I never use or this postcard of a Monet painting?

Recently I read (goodness knows where... online? In a magazine? Did I see it on TV?) about "procrastination fantasies." A procrastination fantasy is when you imagine having achieved a goal in order to put off working toward that goal. I think the author(?) mentioned Walter Mitty as an example--he could be spending his time putting in the effort to become a fighter pilot for real, but instead he spends that time daydreaming about being one. A more recent procrastination fantasy trend that I've noticed is the rise of reality TV shows about making major changes in your life. Shows like "Hoarders" and "The Biggest Loser" and even makeover segments on daytime TV let people fantasize about what it would be like to make big changes--without actually having to make them.

It's easy and all too common for us to tell ourselves that if we can't do something perfectly, we shouldn't try to do it at all. One tenet of cognitive behavioral therapy is that one should recognize that any positive change, however far from perfection it lands us, is usually better than no change at all (and even the people who are best at things aren't perfect!). In this spirit, I started a list a few years ago entitled "Getting Rid of 1,000 Items That Have Been in My Apartment for at Least One Month." (If I couldn't inventory everything and lop off the bottom third, I would at least work at identifying and getting rid of that "bottom third.") One pair of old, no-longer-used socks counted as a single item. One piece of junk mail from that pile in the corner was one item. Anything I replaced immediately, like jars of spaghetti sauce or rolls of paper towels, didn't count. However, if I'd had an empty jar or paper towel tube sitting on a shelf somewhere for over a month because "it might be useful someday" and I put it in the recycling bin, I could write that item down on the list. It took me about a year to get rid of 1,000 items. I then started a new list, trying to get rid of 500 more items. Over a year later, I'm only on #323.

I still fantasize about inventorying everything, though. Would "table and chairs" be a single item, or would it be 5 items? Surely my chess set is a single item. What about things like shampoo, or my toothbrush? Would I rank those, too? Would I have to re-rank my shampoo if I started buying a better brand? Would the ranking illuminate anything I don't already know about my relationship with my possessions? How many possessions do I even have? If each book, each bill saved in a file, each penny in the piggy bank, each stamp in my stamp collection--if each is a single item, could I own as many as 30,000 things? Do I need or even want these things as much as my hanging on to them would suggest I do?

So I fantasize and fantasize. I'm the queen of mundane daydreaming. It would almost be worth it to make this inventory, just to get it out of my head. Or I could keep chipping away at the bottom third, getting rid of what I want least in my life, item by item.