Everyday Dirtbag Entry #29.

This week’s sign that I am not a true dirtbag:

A dirtbag’s life should be simple.  Unencumbered.  Unmarred by materialism, by the sheer mass of good old American (made in China) stuff.

But my life is not.  Oh, at my house, we have A LOT of stuff.

At the start of the summer, Jennie and I made a goal of getting rid of 1000 items.  Garbage and goodwill.  Daily perishables don’t count.

And it seems crazy to me that I could even set a goal like that.  1000 items?  I lived for more than two years of my life on only 100 items.  That’s all I owned.  I called it “The Rule of 100”.  And I stuck to it.

People like to know the rules, so this is how I counted:

Fork, knife, spoon, plate, bowl, and cup = Six.

Add in three T-shirts, a pair of pants, two pairs of shorts, a hat, and two CDs, and the total is now 15.  So you can picture what 100 looks like.  And for two years of my life, that was my number.

And now I’m hoping to get rid of 1000 items between June 22nd and September 22nd.

The score:

Currently, we’ve rid ourselves of 604 items.  That’s as of today, September 7th.  And the weird thing is, our house doesn’t look any different.

Ok, there’s a little less stuff in the drawers and cupboards.  And yes, the girls have fewer toys.  But overall, we’re nowhere near the bottom.  We couldn’t even be called minimalists.  In fact, some places in our house still look like small dens of overburdened packrats.  Or using human terms:  Closets that belong to hoarders.

So 396 to go.  And I thought our lives would look different by now.  600 in, we would feel better.  Less cluttered.  More simple.  The easy lives of camping vagabonds.

Of dirtbags.

But that’s not how it appears to me.  No, we swam out way, way too far.  And it’s a long hard swim back to shore.

To be honest, we might drown.

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