Often, I think about weird things. For example, I frequently wonder how much STUFF we (as in we humans) can continue to manufacture and sell and keep before there is no more room in the world for more STUFF. I’m a purger when it comes to stuff. I love to get rid of it. I keep very little. I heard once whatever you collect and keep - you should love enough to display. If the things you keep have to go in a box in a storeroom, then really, why are you keeping it? This sums up my desire to have less. And part of me wants to go to a thrift store when I need something, not just because its cheaper (though it is a great deal cheaper) but also because I am tired of participating in the hyper-manufactured-junk culture we find ourselves in all too often. I want to send a message.
It should come as no surprise then that I have been catching on more and more to the green movement we see happening in our country. I have canvas shopping bags we use at the store. I love them. And not just because I get a LOT of compliments when I use them. Mostly, I just love that I come home and unpack two huge sturdy canvas bags and not 33 flimsy, falling apart, dripping, torn, twisted plastic bags. Plastic bags are not capable of carrying a bundle of bananas without having their structural integrity compromised. My canvas bags, well, I can carry all 24 pounds of Reagan with no problems.
I recycle, too. I’ve made a more serious effort to make my pile of junk in the landfill less noticeable. Similarly, I reuse things like margarine containers, water bottles, drinking straws, ziploc bags. I don’t like to use papertowels - because the convenience seems a bit wasteful.
I haven’t actually gone home for lunch in several months - trying to conserve some of that precious gasoline.
Slowly, but surely, I’m thinking that less truly is more. In certain categories, old is better, most often, than new. I feel a pull toward a more simple life. And that fits pretty nicely with my anti-packrat mentality.
I still get caught by that MORE monster. I see some of the big beautiful homes and its hard to feel quite as content with mine when I don’t have the stainless steel appliances or the 3 car garage or even a private master bathroom. Deep in my heart, I’m afraid I’m just a 5 star hotel kind of girl, and not so much a camper.
It makes me a little sad that this isn’t a more socially acceptable topic. When someone asks me where I got Reagan’s outfit, I mumble under my breath that I got it at a garage sale. Its my hushed tone that tells others I’m, for some reason, afraid they’ll laugh at me later or think I’m in some kind of financial crisis. But it would be a great deal of fun to have a bunch of friends who wanted to go treasure hunting every once in a while. We’d go to thrift stores and garage sales and Goodwill and find all kinds of fun things, and even have enough to go out for lunch without feeling like we just spent our entire budget in one day.
Anyone care to join my club?