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.

A Flexible Spare Bedroom

After a lot of thought, I finally figured out how to make the most of our spare bedroom.

It’s not a large room; when one of our children lived there until they moved out and got married, they packed that room with a bed, flat-screen television, small dresser, end table and chair. Add the many posters and mementoes on the walls, and that little room felt like a closet.

After the wedding, it became a spare bedroom which was rarely used. The bed offered a place to display my quilts as I made them, but more often than not, other things soon covered the bed, like presents bought but not yet wrapped, household items we received as gifts but couldn’t find a permanent place for, and the excess of library books that I sometimes bring home.

When I decided that the room should be used more often, I turned it into a sewing room by bringing up one of my machines and the table designed for it to sit on. This worked well, but with the bed and dresser still taking up valuable space in that room, it was pretty cramped, especially whenever I was actually sewing and needed to set up the ironing board.

Last winter, I became tired of reading and writing only in the living room. I wanted another space where I could read or write in silence, or talk on the phone when my husband was watching something on television. So out went the bed and the dresser, and now the little room is uncluttered, with just the sewing table, a cozy chair and ottoman, a small end table on wheels, a small cart on wheels (holds sewing supplies) and a floor lamp. As a result, the room gives off a very peaceful feeling.

This past week, a relative came to visit for several days. We put our double-decker airbed in there, and she was quite comfy. I had packed up my machine and its table and put them in the closet, so some open space remained.

Next week, a few of my grandchildren are coming to stay. The airbed turns into two single beds, so we’ll set up those beds and the kids can sleep in there for several nights, with Grandpa and me right next door if they need anything during the night.

Then, after they go home, my machine will come back out and I’ll be back to work on my quilts. This room is now quite useful, and will continue to be so, IF I continue to keep clutter out of it.