You do not need to be a television show-worthy hoarder to have far more than you use. A cursory review of our closets, kitchen drawers, and garages provides ample evidence for all but the most fastidious.
I am not approaching this subject from a moral or value standpoint, criticizing extravagant spending. No, my approach is practical. We should avoid the money squandered, environmental resources wasted, physical space consumed, and mental preoccupation attached to unused or severely underused stuff.
Mindshift
An extended trip reoriented my thinking. Cathy and I had the good fortune to spend a month in Buenos Aires provisioned only with the clothes that could fit in three suitcases.
The meager provisions forced me to wear some of my shirts and pants every week. This predicament did not cause me to perish from embarrassment nor subject me to ridicule by the people who saw me repeatedly. I emerged unscathed, except for the realization I owned far more clothes than I reasonably use.
Even without the luggage restriction, the closet space in our spacious (by Argentinean standards) two-bedroom condo could not possibly corral the clothes in my Texas-sized closet. I shuddered, wondering how to pare down my wardrobe if I moved to Buenos Aires, but realized I was looking at it backward.
Instead of worrying about what I would have to give up, I considered what I would have never acquired. I would have stopped buying shirts at number 15 and not have the extra 30 that rarely leave the hangar.
The Buenos Aires experience did not compel me to sell my possessions and give the proceeds to the poor or return to sackcloth. But it did cause me to stop digging.
We must stop acquiring more before addressing the unused items in our homes. Otherwise, we are the slob who spends all weekend putting his house in perfect order and on Monday night has dirty socks on the floor, dishes on the counter, and a jacket thrown on the chair.
The Standard
Judging by our homes, gatekeeping based on finances, needs, wants, and environmental concerns does not work. Rather than perpetuating insanity, I recommend a more practical use standard.
Will you use it? And answer truthfully!
That snazzy shirt on the rack (or online listing) is eye-catching, but will I wear it more than twice a year? If not, I can resist the temporary infatuation, leave it hanging on the rack (or in the virtual cart), and wear one of the shirts already in my closet on those one or two occasions. Or, if I cannot resist, the new shirt requires repurposing a current one to better use.
Like many things in life, potential is frequently unrealized. Corn skewers (the things you poke in the end of the cob to pick it up) are a fabulous invention. On the rare occasions I eat cobbed corn, I forget I have skewers or where they are or do not go through the trouble of retrieving them. I substitute the less cultured but equally effective method of using my hands.
The use concept is the adult equivalent of our parents scolding us about our partially consumed dinners while there are starving children in Africa.
Use does not redeem decadence, but it avoids adding the insult of nonuse to the injury of excess. Unlike most oenophiles, who collect far more bottles than they will ever consume, I never allow my sinfully expensive wine to languish. Within weeks, I add intemperance to the equation and guzzle the wine.
Nonuse guarantees waste. Almost by definition, anything used is not wasted (withholding judgment on the suitability of the expenditure).
__________________________________________
The problem is not the investment in an item but the failure to secure a return on the investment. Applying an honest, realistic use qualification ensures you only acquire things you will use.