Another Digital Fasting Update

So it’s been nearly three months since I began my digital fast. While I’m no longer avoiding web surfing, I’m trying to keep it on a short chain. I take a quick look at the news, and move on. No more hours of surfing or following rabbit trails.

I’m also reading more actual, physical books. I’ve been working my way through several entertaining series written by Rhys Bowen. All of the books have come from my public library. I like being able to give back each volume when I’m through with it instead of trying to find a place for it in my home. Libraries are simply wonderful, aren’t they?

I’m still spending more time working with my hands, although I burned out on making dishcloths and have gone back to playing Candy Crush at night while we watch a movie. Once I get some quilt tops quilted, I’ll need to hand-stitch the bindings, and that will take the place of Candy Crush.

Ultimately, I do feel that I’ve reduced the digital clutter in my life. This recently carried forward into another area of technology when I learned that my beloved ancient cell phone with the slide-out keyboard would soon stop working because it’s 2G, which is being phased out.

After much research, I chose a smartphone that cost me $80 (including a year’s worth of use). I have chosen not to use it to access the Internet except for a map app that will help me when faced with the need to find alternate routes while traveling. Otherwise, I’m only using it for calls, texting and the occasional photo. This should help keep my Internet usage down, instead of increasing it.

Whenever I’ve decluttered my home or decluttered my digital life, I am continually reminded that less clutter equals more freedom.

Overdoing the Minimalism Thing

I read an article by a woman who has gone minimalist. The accompanying photos reveal a house that is so sparse and open that it looks like it’s been staged so she can put it on the market. There are a few tasteful-but-simple floral arrangements (including the obligatory orchid plant), and almost nothing on the walls.

It actually looks (I hate to say it) boring.

I hate saying that because I’m so pro-decluttering (after learning the hard way that too much stuff makes a house look way too cluttered and turns it into a burden). But clearly, you can go too far in the other direction.

I think most people get joy from looking at a beloved landscape painting on a wall, or an exceptionally beautiful clock on a mantel. Gorgeous, high-end wallpaper on one wall of an otherwise boring little powder room can take that room to the next level. And one perfectly chosen throw pillow can really make a basic sofa look great.

When taken to the limit, minimalism can go too far. A house won’t feel like a home if it’s missing all the unique personal touches that reflect its owner’s personality. Just because you have way too much stuff doesn’t mean you’ll be happier if you strip your home of almost everything. Taking that logic to its inevitable endpoint, you might as well live in a big empty box painted white inside.

One of my favorite quotes is this one. Note that it goes far beyond the first five words.

Too Many Suds

As I said last week, there are too many choices in our first world, and that creates clutter.

So now, I need to follow my own advice.

The other day, I was in the basement when I noticed a couple of packages of soap on my supply shelves. (I keep supplies and canned food in the basement because of limited space upstairs.)

I’d forgotten I had that soap. It was just a basic brand from the dollar store, but it’s still soap, and it will do its job whenever I remember to bring it upstairs and use it.

Did I forget to use soap in the shower? Am I hygienically challenged? No, quite the opposite. In the bathroom upstairs, I have several bottles of body wash in the shower (I use them interchangeably, depending on my mood), plus more in the vanity cabinet, and quite a few bars of soap in the vanity drawer.  In fact, I clearly have more body wash and soap than five women could use in a month. But why?

Because there are so many choices.

The soap I found in the basement is just plain old soap, not white jasmine, or sweet pea, or rose hip and patchouli nurturing nectar, as I actually have in the shower right now. But if I came in hot and sweaty from gardening, that basic soap would do the job just fine.

Years ago, I used to visit my great aunt and uncle, who spent their summers in a three-room cottage in rural Michigan, not far from Lake Michigan. They had an outhouse, but no bathroom. On the outside of the cottage was a shelf with a metal bowl and a white bar of soap. You filled the bowl from the nearby pump, and washed up in that bowl using the white soap. You dried off with a nearby towel. Simple.

My great aunt was a happy, lovely woman. I don’t think her life was diminished each summer because she had no body wash, no shower gel and no shower. She managed just fine.

I think I can learn a lesson from that.

Too Many Choices = Clutter

According to a millennial therapist, millennials’ biggest complaint is that they have too many choices and it’s stressing them out.

I suspect “too many choices” is a first-world problem, and one that is felt by far more people than just millennials. The other day, I went shopping for several things, including some shampoo for my husband. He has used this shampoo for many years, and until fairly recently, I could grab a bottle and keep going. But now that there are at least 20 versions of his shampoo, I have to stand there and figure out which one would be best for him. I can no longer find a basic version of his shampoo.

The “too many choices” dilemma also applies to our homes. If you have too many clothes, you spent too much time each day choosing what to wear. If you have an overloaded fridge and freezer, you spend too much time trying to figure out what to eat. If you have shelves full of DVDs, along with subscriptions to Netflix and Amazon Prime, you spend too much time trying to find something to watch.

The time it takes for us to make all of these choices each day adds to our stress level. The only way to combat this is by limiting choices. At home, that means keeping a modestly sized wardrobe, a pantry and fridge containing only what you need for a week or so, and a limited number of entertainment options.

There is a point where you go from having just enough to living in clutter. To find your optimal level of having enough, keep getting rid of things until you stop finding yourself wasting time making choices. Then watch your stress level plummet.