Trashed

Trashed
Originally uploaded by 365 Things

What: Damaged Vintage cocktail-themed ice bucket. (Really.)
Origin: "Hello, name is "A", and I'm a garage-sale-aholic." (I've been in recovery for a good 15 years, see confession.)
How long kept: Geez, I would guess since the late 80s?
Usage: Never. Other than moving it closer and closer to the exit door of my apartment over the past months.
Why kept: I Might Fix It. (And then It Would Be Cool/Vintage and Someone Might Need It.)
Destination: Good Old NYC Landfill. (Gulp. Sorry.)

Confession: The extent of this baby's damage was not trivial. It's brass cover was banged up and dented. The handle had fallen off. The entire thing, which was largely vinyl, was kind of squashed. (Viewed from above, it appeared to be slightly oval shaped, which meant that the round cover would not ever fit on it again. Even if fixed.)

Aargh.

Confession, part deux: I still love a good garage sale. But I rarely buy anything. Though I'm still a sucker for vintage embroidered linens and those gaily printed flowered tablecloths from the 40s and beyond. ("M" got me a very Christmas embroidered tablecloth and napkin set at the Freecycle Free Meet.)

Aargh.

Confession, part trois: Broken stuff. "Potential" is a theme in Randy Frost and Gail Skeketee's book about hoarding, Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things.People who truly have an issue with hoarding keep stuff because they see potential that the rest of us might not see.

I'm not a hoarder, clinically speaking.  But "potential" is embedded in many of the reasons that I have held onto stuff -- and nowhere as inexplicably as with broken stuff.  Clothing that might be mended, and wearable by "someone", check. (Now dispatched to textile recycling. Whew.)

Thanks to eBay, I've seen how little most of my Cool/Vintage stuff that's in mint condition is worth.* So while this was a bit Sticky, and it took a bit of time, it went down the trash chute the day before I left on vacation.

Broken stuff, begone.

(*A clock I bought for a dollar in the 80s may be the exception to this rule. Stay tuned.)

Kindred Spirit: The Great American Apparel Diet

Here's a link to a group of women (and a couple of men?) who made a commitment to stop buying new clothes, The Great American Apparel Diet.   They started last September, but it looks like people can join any time.

It's funny, saucy and a similar exercise to what we're doing here, only they are focusing on not bringing more stuff in rather than getting rid of stuff.

I've definitely found myself facing a business meeting, a conference, etc. with the thought that I don't have anything suitable to wear.   This is one of those points of distress, where running out to buy something creates a form of escape.   (As Randy Frost calls it in Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things.)

As it turns out -- and this is also a teaching and learning of meditation --  escape does not create solutions.

Alternately, though, I've been questioning the thought, "I don't have anything suitable to wear," by asking "Is this true?"   And then looking in my closet.   I actually have more to wear than I need.

Duh.

And P.S.   Freaky, this was in the NY Times online today, which I checked after finishing this post and while finishing my coffee...on my way to starting my work!

Kicking Glass

Kicking Glass
Originally uploaded by 365 Things

What: An assortment of small glass containers, some I think were odd punch cups. (Also, one stray candle holder and a shot glass.)
Usage: Probably not much in this century, see confession.
How long kept: Since the early/mid-90s.
Why kept: They Might Be Useful. Nostalgia. They're Perfectly Good.
Destination: Housing Works.

Confession: In the 90s, these were pressed into frequent service in my home, holding votive candles, particularly during dinners with friends and other opportunities to entertain. Like a trend, it passed...and I also became more aware of fire safety, too, and curtailed my use of candles in the house.

I can probably name 3 times in the last 10 years I've pulled them out of the top shelf of my kitchen cabinet to wash them. (How does dust get into these usually closed cabinets?) Each time I've put them back into the cabinets.

(And I need to stand on either a ladder or on the kitchen counter to access this shelf. I'm petite. So nothing stored up there is getting frequent use.)

Confession, part deux:  There are another 15 or 20 votive candle holders up there.

Sticky.

Bonus:   This stuff is heading over to Housing Works in one of the bags from the dwindling shopping bag stash.

P.S. The other day, I floated to the top of the NYPL waiting list for Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things, by Randy Frost and Gail Steketee.   This book got a bit of press earlier in the year, and I had wanted to read it.   Something I read this morning prompted me to clamber up onto the kitchen counter and get another bunch of votive holders down...they're gone now, too.  

Worth reading, and I'll come back to it. In short, some of the people who have serious problems with stuff are considering their stuff in some of the same terms we are here (i.e. It Might Be Useful, Someone Might Need It, Guilt. etc.) They're thinking the same thoughts we are, about a lot more of their stuff.

A Breath of Fresh Air

On May 5, radio show Fresh Air recently featured Randy Frost and Gail Steketee on their book Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things.

You can listen online or read the transcript here.

It Might Be Useful:  what's different from this interview and what I've seen on Oprah in the distant past, is the sense of compassion.   On Oprah, there was an "eew" factor to the stories.   Not so much here. 

Out of (my) Sight

Out of (my) Sight
Originally uploaded by 365 Things

What: Several Elmore Leonard books. (And one other book I tried to release by lending it out...only to have it returned!)
Origin: I love Elmore, particularly his dialogue.
How long kept: Ack, some probably since the 80s. They're yellowing! Last read? Gulp.
Why kept: Because I love Elmore, maybe I thought I'd read them again? Thus They Might Be Useful. Also, some sense of my own identity. I can't be a total egghead and "heart" a writer like Elmore Leonard.
Destination: Housing Works.

Confession: I've reasoned that I can buy them back for a dollar each if I miss them.

Confession, part deux: I saved my two favorites, Get Shorty and Out of Sight. I Might Need Them!

Confession, cont:  I was inspired to lose this little collection by a Peter D. Kramer book review in the NY Times about a new book called Stuff:   Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things, by Randy O. Frost and Gail Steketee.   The opening:

"Working with a patient he calls Debra, a compulsive hoarder, the psychologist Randy O. Frost tried a simple experiment. Frost proposed sending Debra a postcard, blank but for the name and address. Debra’s assignment was to throw it away.

Days later, Debra complained that she had not had enough time with the card. She described the stamp and the postmark. When she finally let go, she pictured the card’s position in the trash. Later, she confessed she had cheated by writing down everything about the card she could remember and then saving the notes."

Part of me says, hmmm.   What's up in our culture with the stream of stories in popular culture about "hoarders"?    How often does someone like me, with an inclination to own the 5 extra Elmore Leonard books or "stash" of fabric, develop attachment at a level that might garner Oprah's attention?

The other part of me says, Aargh!  (And, what can I get rid of next?)