To Purge or Not to Purge

Since downsizing to a smaller home is now on the horizon I have been contemplating the idea of precisely what it means to downsize.  The Foolish One mentioned the concept of "living simple" and that phrase has been stuck in my head.

I'm certain that the idea of living simple is different for every person. Yet now I find myself trying to ascertain what living simply would mean for our family. The big looming question is how much of the stuff that we currently have are items we actually love, need and use?

Over the past couple of days I have been trying to wander through the house with a fresh eye; trying to focus on certain items and deem whether or not I'm still in love with them or if I can live without them; trying to determine which items we actually use and need.

Conclusion? There is a purge on the horizon. We have a lot of useless stuff and things that I've decided I no longer need/want (less stuff to dust? I'm all about it). The only obstacle is actually starting the process. I need to determine where to start and precisely where I'm going to start my purge pile.

Keep in mind that I also have the tendency of being a pack rat. So a major purge just is not in keeping with my nature at all. This is going to be an uphill battle.

Goodwill Hunting

A while back our dress code changed at work.  Some changes are good: like being able to wear jeans or khakis.  Of course I opt for the jeans.  Haven't donned a pair of khakis since jeans became an option.  However, before we were allowed to wear black shirts or white shirts.  Now we can only wear white.  I am not too enthused about that aspect.

I have the uncanny knack for getting dirty at work.  Which is ironic since it is a retail establishment that deals primarily in stuff that gets you clean and/or makes you smell good.  So, black is out and white is in.  Which means the bajillion black shirts I had are no longer an option.  Up until today I had acquired precisely three white shirts.  Now that we are gearing up for our holiday season (yes, it seems to start earlier every year) it became painfully obvious that those three shirts just were not going to carry me through a busy holiday season.

So, off to Goodwill I went even though I know that my chances for finding something specific at the precise moment I need it there is a rare occurrence. Patience if you are looking for something in particular is key.  Today, however, I was very happy to walk out with a white polo shirt for $2.69, a long sleeved button up shirt for $1.00, and a pair of Levi's for $3.99. Not too shabby and I even scored a pair of jeans for Captain Oblivious for $3.99 as well.

I always love the feeling that I just got one hell of a bargain, the knowledge that my dollars help make a difference, and also some previously owned items are getting reused. 

Counting Your Chickens

I am a very fortunate wife.  My husband is very forgiving when I bring home some random piece of crap a new found treasure that should be put promptly into the dumpster needs a little love.  Mack generally just asks what plans I have in store and then kind of looks away when that project goes neglected for an undetermined amount of time.  He may ask nonchalantly when I'm going to tackle a certain project and just kind of nods his head when I tell him I'm waiting for it to speak to me.

Yes, inanimate objects speak to me.  Sometimes it is something as simple as what color they want to be.  Other times they tell me what they want to be when they grow up.  I also name furniture.  Because I'm crazy like that and Mack loves me anyway (most of the time).  Inanimate objects talk to Disney princesses all the time.  And apparently Walt thought that wasn't crazy at all.  And just look at the empire he built.  But I digress.

I relayed to you in my last post about Mack's desire for a big yard.  I must admit that I'm not much of a yard person.  I don't like to mow or weedeat (right now I'm convinced my husband doesn't either since our yard is starting to look like it needs brush hogged).

However, I currently obsessed with the idea of urban homesteading.  More accurately, I am obsessed with growing edibles and learning to preserve those edibles.  Ya know, a throw back to the old days of "layin' in" for the winter months.  I do not want a huge back forty to plow or weed 500 foot long rows of corn stalks and the such.  I'm entirely too lazy smart for that.  I'm a square foot gardening convert and love the look of pretty little raised beds.  I also love the idea of not spending days and days on my knees weeding.

Mack is on board for that as long as I leave him some yard for a grill and a patio.  However, I cannot seem to get my husband to agree to having some chickens.  Perfectly legal here in the city limits and its not like I want a rooster.  I want fresh eggs and the benefits of their droppings for my garden.

I think he mumbled something about us being the crazy people in the neighborhood with chickens.  I think I may have mumbled something about him being a jackass (not an animal I want).  He mumbled something I didn't catch under his breath.  Apparently the idea of fresh eggs is not enough to get Mack on board with this portion of my urban homesteading idea. 

This hasn't stopped me from Googling chicken tractors.  Now I just need to find out how many chickens the city will allow me to have...