My Love Affair With Stuff

From March 12, 2016

I miss stuff and I don’t think I am ashamed to admit it.

Choosing to live a tiny living life for a bit has changed my perspective. No judgment whether the change is good or bad. I am just clear that I see stuff differently today than I did maybe even six months ago.

Last night I finally took up an offer from a friend to stay in town for the evening and sleep over to avoid a late night drive back to Southern Maryland. I slogged from work through Northern Virginia traffic and remembered how much people hate NOVA for its traffic alone. Dinner was ready by the time I arrived but I couldn’t sit down to eat as I was immediately struck by all the stuff, mostly big box cargo store stuff. I took a moment to run my hands slowly over the honey pretzels and extra large plastic container of cashews. I miss honey pretzels.

My eyes jumped from package to package and then lingered on the open door to the pantry. I didn’t walk in it, but I couldn’t look away. To break the spell, I turned all the way around to look at the whole kitchen and adjoining family room. It was probably as long as the boat, and most definitely two to three times wider filled with lots of cozy, overstuffed furniture.

She asked me to reach into the island cabinet and pull out two plates. In the lower cabinet there were two shelves filled with plates. One shelf was the white every day plates in dinner and salad size. The other shelf held a pattern with a lovely design, dinner and salad sizes again. I was completely overwhelmed by all the plates. Not that I haven’t in the past had my own cabinet with various purpose plates. I know that it feels necessary and satisfying to have enough plates to feed my whole family of origin and their offspring should they drop by on a Friday evening. That’s not even including the dishes in the china cabinet reserved for Christmas and Thanksgiving.

The plate situation on the boat is different. We have four plates and four bowls. If family or friends slog through beltway and Southern Maryland traffic on a Friday evening we’ll be eating sandwiches wrapped in foil or someone will need to bring some paper plates. Depending on the season, we (not Kurt) can also do crabs spread on butcher-paper-covered tables. Beer and sodas will be served in their original containers. Cole slaw will create trouble.

When I woke hours earlier than Maureen, I crept downstairs and worked hard to figure out the coffee maker that comes with lots of stuff. After finding the switch in the back, I brewed my cup and headed straight for the comfy chair I had spied the night before. I missed comfy chairs next to windows that look out at backyards. Curled up on that chair, drinking coffee, I watched robins and crows and even a pileated woodpecker being chased away from a rotting tree stump by a gray squirrel. Nature in the ‘burbs through a window while drinking coffee, I miss it!

After she woke, we chatted about families and stuff. How people deal with stuff when other people die, to be exact. How families get torn apart by people dealing poorly with the distribution of loved ones’ stuff even when wills are written or verbal agreements are clear. Even how people get offended by deeply sad mourners and spend years being offended because stuff wasn’t distributed fairly by those who couldn’t see straight enough to make sure egos were not injured. Stuff adds complications and people care enough about stuff sometimes to let the complications wedge irritations between the ones they love.

As I drove to my new home on the boat, I remembered how important stuff was to my mother who grew up poor. She wasn’t exactly a hoarder, but she did keep lots of stuff. I remembered how purging her house after she died was a delicious catharsis. We threw out cans of tomato sauce and old make up, we sold books and 1970’s craft supplies and finally took home pieces of furniture that reminded of us her. Her chair and mirror are stored safely in my brother’s garage and will be treasured in my new home some time soon. It was this catharsis that started me on the road to reduce my footprint. I have never been a huge keeper, but things matter to me. Just ask my sisters to tell you about the time they threw away my large bowl of North Carolina sand.

On the boat, I do have a few relics from my home of stuff that I kept from storage.

Sun Catchers (to be removed when sailing)

I love to see them and be reminded of the people or memories they represent. If this boat life extends past summer, I definitely will need to find/buy/make some extra fluffy throw pillows that will mimic an overstuffed chair for my leisurely weekend mornings. Kurt gave us gravity chairs for our one-year anniversary to create a feeling of living room at the grassy end of our pier.

Current Living Room

Naps are marvelous there and will be until it gets cold again. We store the chairs in our cars as there is no room on the boat! The car storage thing is a whole other story.

Kurt assembling a new bimini in our "work room".

Maybe it’s just an American thing to gather up stuff to make us feel satisfied and accomplished. I have been told more than once that throw pillows on the master and guest beds are directly proportional to personal wealth. Is that true elsewhere in the world? Seems like Europe would agree with holding onto stuff. People in the Middle East do like to prove their worth with high quality items of stuff. I saw that in the movie House of Sand and Fog. But it seems to me that East Asia or most parts of Africa and Scandinavia would think twice about hoarding.

So, for now, I’ll stay content with this pantry

Pantry unlike anything I have had before!

 and my homemade afghan. Not having room to put newly acquired stuff keeps me on my money saving path and allows me to go travel to see my kids without breaking the bank. I do know that when this grandma house plan becomes real, there will be some serious stuff acquisition. Who knows if I’ll go crazy about it, but I doubt it will be neither necessary nor satisfying. It might just be limited to that which is comfortable and useful.