THE MINIMALISM GAME
The outgoing boxes are getting heavy
Two weeks into the Minimalism Game, 91 expunged objects of a total 496 by New Year’s Eve. Who knew disconnecting would be so connecting?
Besides getting updates on Twitter and Facebook from loads of people playing along — and boy am I envious of all that makeup some are using to pump up the numbers — questions have been coming in about where all this stuff is ending up.
One of my favourite places in Edmonton, Nina Haggerty gets the big model ship we saw on the first day, as well as some of the art books, all of which I hope inspire some excellent art. Artistic director Paul Freeman laughs, “Everyone tries to give us their old computers,” the lesson being to give anyone a call if you’re hoping to donate anything — though art supplies are a pretty safe bet.
E4C Women’s Emergency Accommodation Centre, meanwhile, can always use those complimentary hotel toiletries. I’m splitting whatever money I make from sold-off items between these two organizations.
As usual, a lot of the items ended up attracting a clowder of treasure cats — most surprisingly including my not-materialist father, who angled for the coveted mermaid bottle opener, calling it, “Sensational!” Get in line, buddy.
The century-old Edmonton-stamped bricks were another “if you don’t want those” hit, and my mom had a long list of things
my relatives were obviously harassing her about, including the broken Gretzky clock. That’s a real score. Sheesh. Also, if I gave my parents these things, it means I really haven’t given them away, ultimately.
One friendly septuagenarian, who asked his name not be revealed, has a great collection of old sheet music and live, reel-to-reel classical music, asking how he could possibly be expected
to toss these out. So he came up
with the idea of a “purgatory box,” a big trunk on the way out to deal with … eventually.
And, of course, the big questions keep coming in. Am I going to laser-slice into the Star Wars toy collection on the 17th, the night The Force Awakens comes out? What about Christmas, will I be getting rid of 25 things that day, and what will you get?
The simple truth is, none of this is planned in advance. Either the night before or every morning I walk through a cluttered apartment and just start plucking, then haul everything over to the Journal, usually by hand, take the photo and write the description up. The bricks were particular murder. Those of you out there
doing this without all the documentation
have my warmest envy.
As the loads are getting bigger and bigger every day, the squares on my calendar are feeling more and more like bathroom tiles with fungus growing ever larger from the edges.
But ultimately, seeing bits of the floor for the first time in years and letting the books escape their previous sardine-can conditions are worth the time and effort.
This is already starting to feel like one of the best things to try out ever.
Seriously, please have a go at the Minimalism Game in January … or play catch-up now, it’s never too late to eliminate!