Going toe to toe with the stuff monster
Six years ago, my wife and I moved from a 2,800-square-foot home in North Buffalo into just under 1,400 square feet of livable housing in the West Village within the shadows of City Hall. We wanted to simplify our lifestyle by moving into a smaller, more efficient home with just the right amount of green space. Being empty nesters, this decision appeared to be both practical and desirable.
But let me back up to the title of this narrative before continuing. I think it is appropriate to define and clarify the word “stuff.” As noted in Webster’s Dictionary, this word is both a verb and a noun. The verb “stuff” means to obstruct, clog, choke, jam, fill and pack. The noun refers to material matter, things, objects, rubbish, trash, contents, debris, scrap and junk. The noun in this case is what has us concerned.
This being our fifth home in 42 years of marriage, we have always been very much aware of stuff and have diligently weeded out with each successive move to a new house. Most stuff during those first 25 years consisted of outgrown children’s clothing, Barbie dolls, stickers, Hot Wheels cars, dinosaur models, Legos, G. I. Joe figures and, regrettably, Star Wars memorabilia and baseball cards that we probably should have kept as an annuity.
Downsizing six years ago necessitated dealing with the stuff monster on a much larger scale than ever before. We tackled the job with much vigor and applauded our efforts in moving our stuff into a household that is half the size of our previous one.
But let me share with you the dilemma we are now facing. The stuff monster has returned and is now living in our basement.
We have even defined the categories of stuff. There is the “just in case stuff,” the “you never know stuff” and the “if it comes back in style stuff.” And we are not alone. Out there are countless people, friends and relatives who can relate to the same kinds of stuff that we have. I feel we are on the cusp of an epidemic.
A sister of mine, who has lived in the same house for 36 years, has admitted to having the “pretty bowl syndrome,” that is, everything must have its own pretty bowl. She is now dealing with the stuff monster herself.
Fortunately, she has a married daughter who she can gift the stuff to. The daughter looks upon the stuff as treasures. But we know it is just a matter of time before she, too, will realize it’s just plain stuff.
My recently retired sister-in-law came upon a box in her basement filled with numerous raincoats. Among her “if it comes back in style raincoats” she has polka dot, plaid, pink, lined and unlined, long and short, with hoods and without, buttoned and zippered. My suggestions were to either ship them to India during the monsoon season or move to Seattle.
My other sister is faced with an even more potentially serious problem. She and her husband have three homes all filled with stuff. All I can say is, good luck!
But there is hope. There is clear direction from the late comedian George Carlin. In his 1986 Comic Relief stand-up monologue, he clearly defined the importance of stuff. In closing, I invite all of you to google “YouTube George Carlin Talks About Stuff.”
