Spring cleaning time is here and the old-fashioned term is now being pretty much replaced by “decluttering.” Hundreds of online articles with hundreds of comments about clutter, everyone labelling themselves as “minimalist” or “maximalist” or somewhere on the spectrum referring to how many objects you have in your personal environment.
If you’re not full-on minimal or maximal, like being liberal or conservative, you’re expected to lean somewhere. As a Bernie Sanders supporter who later voted for Trump, I don’t know where I’m labelled politically, but on the cluttered-home spectrum I will say that I’m very, very untidy. I wish I weren’t that way.
There are places in Collinsville, in Dallas, in other states, or on other continents—where I know I could show up on the fly and be welcomed into a neat home. I’m in awe of the people who live there.
I’m not talking about houses being clean, I mean where everything always looks right, even if there’s a scrapbook project going on in the middle of the living room. Where, if you need to go to the bathroom, they calmly point down the hall. Unlike my house, where an unexpected guest has to wait while I run around to find a sponge, a clean bath towel and a roll of toilet paper before they can even go in.
Popping in to say “hi” to neighbors was common when I was growing up. I may be wrong, but it seems like in-person casual visiting has declined to the point of dying out. Perhaps it’s because the internet has replaced face-to-face contact.
But there’s still a massive interest in personal surroundings, even if people are just seen in an online video, which makes me drawn to YouTube sites about clutter. I’m not surprised by much these days, but I’m constantly surprised by what people are willing to put out there about their relationship to their stuff.
Clutter is a bad word. You don’t want to be associated with it, so to draw you in, the content titles may say they’re about “organization,” “storage,” “minimalism,” “maximalism.” It all boils down to how much stuff you are willing to deal with and what you’re willing to let other people see.
Hard to admit is the fundamental divide: storing stuff is not the real problem, getting rid of stuff is as real as it gets. Commenters on these sites get more emotional about that than about relationship breakups.
The authors start with their individual journey of stuff-sorting and, in the process, give advice to others struggling with their own stuff. Viewers are triggered to judge, evaluate, tell their own story, and so creators make more YouTube money because of the number of views and comments.
First, all retained possessions need to be described in detail with multiple photos. A decision to keep things becomes a public matter and each item is argued on the merits. Usually, viewers don’t weigh in on this category so much, it seems to be a chance for maximalist creators to brag about how many nice things they have and minimalists to show how wonderful they are to be able to get along with so few necessities.
Selling your personal stuff--or trying to-- sorts itself out on its own and the effort frequently results in a net loss. Donating is much more interesting since it allows for volumes of self-appreciation talk from creators and commentors alike.
In donating, tax-refundable receipts, which rarely equal what the donator had in mind, are a big problem. And sometimes the donations are not even accepted, which sparks a whole other thread of anger and disbelief.
But for straight-out giving, the kicker is how much time and effort giving things away takes. Plus, families are broken apart forever based on things saved for relatives who end up not wanting them. Here again, perceived dollar value is an issue. A “small fortune” in items is quietly kept for family during a lifetime, finally offered and they decline—oh my! Worse, an adult child is discovered to have discarded an item already given to them—unforgiveable.
Even with the disgrace of being the giver of unwanted treasures, more tragic is the personal judgement about what should be offered for free and what should be thrown away. It’s a hard call for everyone, but I would rather admit being a murderer than share some of these narratives, which go (almost literally) as follows:
I had some fabulous and just-like-new valuables worth at least a month’s salary that I wanted to give to people who couldn’t afford nice stuff. I posted pictures of these beautiful things on Facebook-whatever and then I put them out on the curb, but not on the bulky pickup trash area because as anyone can see they are not trash. After several days most of them were still there. I posted again and waited a few more days and posted again. Then, every day I slowly walked out and put one item in the trash bin, and after a week or so they were gone. I don’t know what is wrong with society.
I have some illusions no doubt, but I hope I don’t have that many about my stuff. I may be on the other extreme—my family won’t let me take the trash out before they go through it to see what I may have tossed.
Marilyn Stokes was a public school teacher in Fort Worth for 15 years and subsequently worked at KERA public television for four years. She retired after 15 years at Ford Motor Company, Southwest Region where she was zone manager for small dealers in the southern half of Texas.