730 things — Day 86 of 365

 Probably the least helpful evaluation tool in practicing minimalism or simplicity is a number. Courtney Carver at Be More With Less is a brilliant blogger, thoughtful and insightful, and her Project 333 proved wonderfully helpful to people struggling to tame their clothes collections.  She writes here about Dave Bruno's 100 Things Challenge — and he is another inspiring and wonderful thinker. 

But for me personally, getting hooked up on a number like that was never fun or challenging, just stressful. It felt like a strait-jacket, and triggered anxiety. I become too rigid. When you dig deeper into how those who initiate such challenges are applying their invented rules, they always turn out to be doing what looks like cheating to me — including all their underwear as one thing, perhaps, or not counting their sportswear (why?), or not including items that are integral to the household they belong to (their plate and mug, for instance).

So I used to get angry and stressed because I was allowed to count all my underwear as one thing but had to count my earrings separately — that struck me as grossly unfair because I'm not very interested in underwear provided it's comfy, but I love my earrings. Before long I was feeling like a miserable failure and deeply resentful as well. 

This was how I learned number-based minimalist challenges are not for me!

I think a good basic system is to figure out the minimum you need for the life you have. To take cars as an example, if you have four small children and live in a rural area far from the doctor and the shops, and the roads near you are fast and have no pavements (= 'sidewalk' US), you would probably need to include a car in your minimalist kit. I don't need a car because I'm growing old and my children are adult, I live in an urban street near the grocery store and the bus stop. Of course, even if you're like me and don't need a car, if you absolutely love your car and it gives you daily joy, well, as George Fox said to William Penn about wearing his sword, "I advise thee to wear it as long as thou canst." 

The time will come to lay it down, and when it does, you'll know. At least, I hope you will. More than one person has been mowed down by a pensioner who kept on driving far too long. My father-in-law from my first marriage used to have his wife as a passenger to read the signs for him once his eyesight got too bad, and when my mother got too old to drive she'd be given lifts by an elderly friend who couldn't actually feel her own feet — not ideal for operating a clutch pedal, accelerator and brake. Don't be like them, will you?

So I work with what I figure is the minimum I need to be comfortable and happy. I have more of some things than others. For instance, I have four coats — a fleece hoodie, a rain jacket, a warm knee-length coatigan, and I've just bought a soft warm knitted cotton wrap-round jacket. But that's because our weather is very changeable and when I go out it's on foot. I also have a (very comfortable) black micro-fleece blazer, which is tucked away and I almost never wear it. In one version of minimalist truth, it could be said I absolutely didn't need to buy the wrap-round cotton jacket (because the fleece hoodie fulfils the same requirements) or the black blazer — but I love the look of the jacket and I keep the blazer for if I have to go to a funeral or something where it matters to not look scruffy. The jacket hasn't arrived yet; my standards of evaluation are distinctly stringent, so I may yet not keep it anyway. 

On the other hand, I now have only three sweaters — a thin roll-neck one, a cashmere cardigan, and a soft, warm crew-neck one — because I can also wear my fleece hoodie and my thick knee-length knitted coat as cardigans and I'm hoping the same will be true of the stretchy jacket. I guess it depends how you categorise things.

Something that's changed for me (like for most people) is the whole category of books — and music too. I read a lot less than I once used to, and am a more critical and picky reader for having been a writer. The arrival of YouTube in our lives has changed things — videos have taken the place of magazines in my life. Green Renaissance is my favourite channel at the present time. For many years, I had a big stash of CDs (tapes before that) and always a good CD player, and a hefty bookcase — but now my music's in my phone and my books in my Kindle. So I still have them (or access to them at least), but not as physical objects.

I keep a watchful eye on my home and ask myself often, "Do we still need that thing?" Above all, I never keep anything out of a sense of guilt at having chosen it and paid for it. What's done is done.

So today, I am sending out two headbands, almost (but not quite) identical. I thought they were pretty and bought them at a time when I was growing my hair. They are pretty, but it occurred to me I could cut down on accessories and hair products by keeping my hair short, so now I do, and therefore no longer have any need for these.

They went to the charity shop.