(Continued from Part 1. This concludes the article.)
Financial Death Cleaning
A neighbor recently received a large portion of her financial inheritance from her mother even though she’s still alive and well. I’ve often thought the idea of leaving our wealth to our children when we die is an inefficient system now that people live so much longer than they did a century ago. Typically when older people die nowadays, they pass their wealth on to their children who themselves are already “old,” well-established in life, and who oftentimes have no practical use for the money. I think of how much more practical it would be if we gave our children some of their financial inheritance now, in the form of paying down their mortgage or something similar. That’s what my neighbor’s mother did. She and her daughter and son-in-law had a memorable mortgage-burning party in the backyard. She got to enjoy the experience of her daughter’s overwhelming thanks and gratitude and the tears of joy which she never could have otherwise. I’m sure it was a great bonding experience as well. Paying off a mortgage is in a class of happiness all its own.
Our Stuff Owns Us
There’s an old saying that we don’t own our stuff, it owns us. Being a minimalist for the past 20+ years has allowed me to feel much freer than I did back when a lot of stuff owned me. While I was working in a large city, minimalism allowed me to be more mobile. Since I had so few possessions to move, I was able to move once a year. I took advantage of the rent discounts apartments offered to new move-ins if they’d sign a one-year lease. It never took more than two trips in my SUV to get it all moved. Being a minimalist to that extreme isn’t practical for most people but more useful for college students and those who change location frequently.
While living in a big city so far out of my hick-town element, there was the subconscious psychological benefit of knowing I could easily leave at any time with so few possessions to move. I knew I didn’t want to be there long enough to settle down and buy a home so minimalism was a big help. I also didn’t throw too many lavish dinner parties so living with sparse furnishings was not an issue.
I eventually settled down for good and bought 20 acres of land to pursue my lifelong dream of living a self-reliant lifestyle which, of course, requires buying lots of “stuff.”
Fast forward from my first Swedish death cleaning to the present day.
My Shop
During the busy times of the year when I’m doing lots of projects requiring tools and lumber, my workshop gets to be a huge cluttery mess. There’s no time to properly put everything in its place when I’m running back and forth for various tools and supplies. So a few times a year I have to take a day or two and get everything back to some semblance of order.
This year after cold weather finally set in and I knew I wouldn’t be doing much work in the shop for a few months, I did my normal pre-winter cleaning and organizing. But this time was different.
I decided it was time to do a Swedish death cleaning in my shop. Anybody who has a shop of any kind, or a craft room, etc. knows how much stuff can collect in a hurry, much of it in the “I’ll need this some day” category.
I went into my shop and fired up the woodstove.
Lumber
First, the most common item. I had more pieces of lumber of all sizes and shapes than you’d think possible. Sections and pieces of plywood from half sheets down to 4” x 6” pieces of ¼” luan I use for doors on my bee-swarm traps. There were 24” pieces of hardwood waiting for projects on my to-do list. Sections of fancy molding, beautiful pieces of walnut, maple, cherry, and other kinds of hardwoods. Fifteen boards of weathered barn wood I was saving for that perfect project that I hadn’t thought of yet. Those pantry doors with the antique glass in them which I had never got around to putting together and installing, all the picture and mirror frames I had stacked up, and all the various jigs I had made over the years for woodworking projects. All of these were waiting for their moment of glory when they’d finally be put to use in just the right situation.
Today that day arrived and the elusive, perfect purpose for all that wood had finally been discovered: firewood. I kept the larger pieces of plywood, some 1 x 8’s, 1 x 12’s, and various “2 by’s”, the barn wood, and a few samples of the hardwood for making wooden spoons. The rest met their fate on my table saw. When I was finished, there was a huge pile of kindling and firewood on the floor which overflowed through the big sliding doors out into the yard. That time of year I generally only build a morning fire in my house so there was at least three weeks’ worth of firewood there.
All the smallest scraps I put into plastic shopping bags so I could toss the whole bag into the woodstove. While in the house getting the shopping bags, I pulled out 10 or so for the shop, kept 10 or so, and tossed the other 1,742 into the burn pile.
There were pieces of hardwood (not laminated) from an old sewing-machine cabinet I had bought for $1 at auction so I could repurpose the wood and hardware. I took it apart and ended up with 50+ pieces of hardware including 4 pairs of hinges. One pair was pretty fancy so I was saving it for just the perfect project. That day had arrived. That afternoon they became part of a long-procrastinated drop-down shelf on the back deck right by the outlet where I could plug in my George Foreman grill. The hinges were underneath and their beauty hidden, but the concept of saving things for just the perfect project was no longer my philosophy. I saved a piece of the hardwood cabinet that was large enough for some of my upcoming beehive projects. The rest, firewood. I have lots of hardware pieces awaiting, no longer for that perfect project but for the next project that comes along. Use it now. Save my kids and the auctioneers the trouble of dealing with it later.
Next, while fully adhering to the two-is-one-and-one-is-none philosophy, I took all the tools I had triples, quadruples, and octuples of and put them into a pile. I gave many of them to a younger friend who is in the process of acquiring his own tools. The rest I took to the thrift store. Hammers, chisels, staple guns, three metal yardsticks, screwdrivers, wrenches, sets of mismatched sockets, the whole shooting match.
In the process of getting rid of my duplicate tools, I started making a shopping list. Most of my tools were hand-me-downs from decades ago or bought at auctions. There were very few tools hanging on my 4’ x 12’ pegboard which I had acquired new. Many are still in excellent shape but I was ditching all my old screwdrivers with the worn-out tips, all the mismatched wrenches, the cheap pliers, worn-out files, wire brushes, and 617 Allen wrenches. Then I was going to the store, giving them some money, and they were going to give me new ones. I deserve it after all these decades and berated myself for not having done it a long long time ago.
I had a trash pile going: all those chains for a chainsaw I got rid of ten years ago, all the Skilsaw and table-saw blades too dull for woodworking but sharp enough to keep for an emergency of some sort, countless scraps of small metal, and all those things I said I’d eventually fix, including those two ½” drill motors. I tossed all the packing boxes, padded shipping materials, parts and pieces of projects I was going to finish someday.
The burn pile (dedicated to Greta) was growing exponentially: small pieces and scraps of insulation, hose, and tubing. Scraps of insulated wiring, the 63 cords with a plug on one end which I had cut off appliances over the years before throwing them away, and various empty plastic cases which things like drill motors and screwdriver-and-bit sets come in. Tupperware and cottage cheese containers, those clear containers that peanut butter and nuts come in which I was saving for organizing screws and bolts and such, all took their place of honor in the burn pile. All my screws and bolts are already organized so the empty 5-lb. nail and deck-screw containers joined their companions in the burn pile. I’d be eating more peanut butter, peanuts, cottage cheese, and protein powder in the coming months and years so no need to be holding on to the current containers. All those mismatched pairs of gloves, the gloves too worn-out to ever use again, and that pair with the missing thumbs for reasons that escape me now, all got tossed. I picked through the rag box and tossed all the ones which were no longer worthy to call themselves decent rags onto the burn pile.
It was all very liberating.
My shop almost has an echo now. I have a new beginning and with so much more room now, it feels a lot better working in there. I’m free from all the clutter and my guilt has washed away for procrastinating all those partly-done projects. I can see the top of my wood stove once again. There’s enough room under the drill-press bench to put the two stools and the small rolling drop-leaf table I use to stack groups of cut wood during various table-saw projects. Beehive-making season is just about here again and I’m looking forward to having so much room to work in.
Perhaps it’s time for some to consider doing a Swedish death cleaning of your own. Again, it is liberating.
And as soon as I hit the send button on this article I’m heading out to the garden shed…