Exponential growth

One does not become cluttered overnight. It is a subtle, sneaky gradual process.

Like losing one's hair. Or more aptly, like gaining weight. And that's exactly what I did--it was the equivalent of going from a skinny runt of a guy to an enormously obese man in just a year's time.

When my girlfriend arrived to be with me in San Francisco, I was living in a small room of a house that was easily an 8 x 10 space. My bed was a compact full-size futon--I had a small drawing table that I, of course, pulled out of someone's trash. My bookshelves consisted of milk crates from (guess where?) and a couple of 2x4's. Nomad that I was, when it was time to move, I simply turned the crates sideways, deposited the contents in the crates, threw the clothes into a duffel bag and off I went to the next home.

Completely smitten with one another, we decided to find a place together and even I was shocked that the contents of her enormously overstuffed U-Haul all managed to fit into a one-bedroom apartment.

Then we took a big step--the first big step of a relationship. Bigger than saying the words "I Love You." We bought a couch together. I had never owned new furniture before, and the new couch was soon followed by a new desk/office hutch, a television, a footlocker, and rugs. Milk crates, she told me, were for college kids. Growing up meant buying furniture that wasn't stolen or from the trash.

And then she taught me the merits of credit-not just having credit--using credit. By the time we left California to return to the East Coast, everything "I" owned became everything "we" owned. We literally moved 116 boxes and more furniture than you can imagine into a three-story rowhome. One couch became three. One bookshelf suddenly morphed into "his and hers" bookcase sets. A work bench. A dressing bench. Kitchen set and a formal dining room. I needed a better job to pay for all this stuff...so now there was the acquisition of "work" clothes to comply with a dress code.

I joined the volunteer fire service, and suddenly I had gear...and more gear...and uniforms....added to my ham radio equipment....tools....art supplies....it seemed endless.

We bought our first home together--the move was truly painful. How on earth did we get so much stuff? I experienced that phenomenon that many packrats (and non-packrats alike) can relate to: I moved boxes from one house to another that had never been opened from the previous move! what the hell was IN those boxes? It obviously were items so remarkably important that I needed to keep them hermetically sealed to protection their valuable contents.

Like the middle-aged man who realizes that the bald spot is getting bigger and the waistband is growing tighter, our basement began to fill. Our house was looking more and more like her hoarding mother's basement. It frightened both of us.

So when I took a job back west, and we prepared to move again, we made a pact to clean out the things we didn't really need. we used the four-corners method (I'll blog more on that later) and in a matter of months, the basement was clear. That makes it sound so simple--it really wasn't--but I knew we couldn't take it all with us as the new place didn't have a basement or shed. We made so many donations to the local Salvation Army store that they had to literally close to donations for an entire week. Yes. It was THAT bad.

Once cleared, the basement made me feel light and free. It's all relative of course--the 16-foot U-Haul and my pickup truck was so filled we couldn't have fit another paperclip into it without it exploding at the seams. In fact, we had to leave furniture and several boxes behind, which was devastating to me at the time. They just didn't fit. The boxes went--where else?--into the cluttered basement of my girlfriend's shop, where they still reside to this day--almost six years later. Very critical contents, you see. Bobblehead collection. Can't function without those, ya know?

My house out west was brand new--spacious and open. Everything had a place and I suddenly found that when the donation trucks came by once a month, it was easy to let go of old clothes and household objects that I didn't appear to be using much. The house, for the first time, was uncluttered (relatively speaking) and very peaceful. My girlfriend--who became my spouse--was living part-time on the East Coast, part-time out West. She lived in a small apartment/office above her storefront. [note to others: retail shop owners are professional clutterers!] When I returned to the East (don't ask. it was my bad idea.) we essentially merge two households back into one--our little house was able to accommodate it all, but the place was definitely filled to the max.

And then along came the divorce.

More next entry....