Category: decluttering

The Sage Pointe Nine – Too Many Toys for the Toybox

A Lesson on Gluttony.

Previously, I wrote about the Weede family and their fusty skunk hijinx, and that story kept on expanding over time, not only with the odors, but with their possessions, too.

To recap:  In one apartment lived the matronly mother and one of her grown sons.  Directly across the hall lived her daughter, her husband, and their passel of kids.  Then one hot mid-summer day, the Weede family expanded their population in the Sage Pointe complex with the matron’s other son, his girlfriend, and their baby who all moved in with her.  That made a total of nine Weedes in two apartments: five people in Mamma Weede’s place, and four in the other.

One of the messes in the common areas that pointed to the Weede family was the indoor pool area.  It became messier with a sickening overload of beach balls, floats, and tiny plastic toys sitting at the bottom of the pool that they left, as if the pool area was theirs alone.  They wouldn’t clean up their possessions.  Instead, they left their things for other residents to trip over.  Moreover, that family complained a lot when the pool was in repair.  La-di-da.  It even got to a point that they left their pool toys all over the common property, and one beach ball made it to the pond area, and it’s been sitting there for months upon months.  There it is in the lower portion of this photograph, in all its pink and white glory:

In the end, the Weedes’ presence swelled with their toys, tricycles, sand shovels, dolls, and baseball bats that hung like spores in the common areas, tucked around the buildings, in the grass, and by the pool.  They were a reminder that some households don’t just live in a building; they colonize it and make it unpleasant for the other owners who respect neighbors.  Yet, at Sage Pointe, the Weedes were not merely neighbors.  They were an atmosphere of eccentric proportions that took over and conquered.

It’s something to behold when people have so many possessions that they don’t miss them when they are scattered hither and yon.  That’s the clue when gluttony becomes the norm.

 

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The Quiet Freedom of Downsizing.

To live in the world does not mean to be of the world.

Decluttering for my downsize from a large and charming house into a small and pretty condominium has been very freeing— not in a dramatic or sentimental way, but in the simple, practical sense of watching my home become cozier, easier to live in, simpler, and practical.

Before the move, as I sorted through closets, desk drawers, and the pantry, I realized how much space was quietly being taken up by things I no longer use, need, or even notice.  Letting them go has lifted a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying.  The donations to a local thrift store and selling some of the unnecessaries on eBay were enormous: bed, dressers, couches, wing-back chairs, kitchen items, extra knitting needles and crochet hooks, and clothes.  Each shelf cleared, each drawer emptied, every excess piece of furniture donated, each bag of unwanted clothes brought a small but actual sense of relief.  I felt lighter, and the burden is gone!

Another part of downsizing was unsubscribing to businesses I no longer have a need.  It reduced my e-mails, and it also inspired me to get a new password book and reorganize my passwords and account numbers to necessary sources.

Downsizing has also made daily life more manageable.  With fewer belongings, there’s less to clean, less to organize, less to keep track of, less to clutter shelves, closets and cabinets.  Surfaces stay clear longer.  Rooms breathe.  I can find what I need without becoming disgusted at the overflow.  Even the atmosphere feels different— calmer, less crowded, minimal, attractive.  It’s amazing how much peace comes from simply having less.  The home begins to work with you instead of against you.

One of the other positives, too, was that the moving truck wasn’t stuffed with “things.”  Everything that was loaded up was exactly what was needed in the new place.  No “maybes,” no “I’ll think about it later.”

Now, after settling in the new place, I decide that when any piece of clothing becomes too worn out to wear, it gets thrown out and its replacement is questionable.  I don’t need seven pairs of shoes or a dozen dresses.  All that cheesy costume jewelry?  Gone.  Purses?  Three are enough.  A plastic serving spoon breaks, and I don’t replace it since I have wooden ones to use.  Now all of the replacements are up for discussion, and rightly so.

This process has reminded me that a peaceful home isn’t created all at once; it’s built through small, steady decisions.  Choosing what truly serves your life today.  Releasing what belongs to the past.  Making room for order, beauty, and ease.  Downsizing has become a way of shaping my home into a place that supports the life I’m living now— not the lavish life I lived years ago, and not the life I imagined I might need to prepare for someday.

If anything, this move has taught me that simplicity is practical.  It’s not about perfection or minimalism for its own sake.  It’s about creating a home that feels manageable, welcoming, and aligned right.  And in that sense, the freedom I’ve found is not abstract at all— it’s woven into the daily rhythm of living in a space that finally feels like it fits right.

As I continue to live in the world without being of the world, I find myself being better-off and having more time to pray and read good, clean, and educational material.

You would be surprised at how little a person really needs to function in this life.

Peace,

Susan Marie Molloy

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