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Sep. 12th, 2009
Decluttering (with parentheses)
Sep. 12th, 2009 05:49 pmThe American Association of Zookeepers chapter at my work holds a fundraising event each year called "Mothball." (Because it used to be held in the Butterfly Exhibit.) Last year we went, and there was a Halloween theme and we had a good time.
I also discovered what a "silent auction" is, and it was a revelation. You bid on the items by writing your name and your bid on the sheet next to the item, and other people can outbid you, within a certain time limit. It's like ebay, but with real people, and no shipping charges. All the stuff was donated by zoo staff, and I got rid of some things. I loved donating my stuff to this event because the people who got it wanted it enough to pay for it (and sometimes compete for it) and I got to be rid of it. It's like throwing my useless crap out the window without the guilt and angry neighbors.
This year, despite the inferior "prom" theme, I'm determined to have an even better time. I am doing this by getting rid of even more stuff. I've already brought in a few items that didn't sell in the tag sale (life-size goose shaped lamp) and some things I've had kicking around for years (surplus unused machetes). A group of books is on its way, as well as some clutter removed from my dad's house (Uncle Sam Santa riding a bald eagle ornament).
But the big coup for me is the CDs. I have several boxes full of CD accumulated during my time working at a music warehouse (Newbury Comics, for you locals). There's a very narrow range of material(indie rock, post punk) , across a very narrow range of time (about 1992 to 1998). Going through the boxes I'm struck by two things: 1) allergies. I have dust allergies, so old boxes of stuff are like kryptonite to me. 2) how little I actually care about these CDs. I bought a portable hard drive to store all the data on these discs before releasing them from my grasp, but I'm surprised how often I look at a disc and say, "nah, don't need to have that."
The hard part is going to be the papers. Some day I have to deal with dozens of dusty boxes full of documents and magazines that have no intrinsic value to anyone. I'll have to sneeze my way through them sheet by sheet, deciding what reason I had for saving them and if that reason still stands, or if I need to create an archive. I'm thinking I'll get myself a fireproof box, put everything in it, and bury it in as deep a hole as I can dig on my dad's property. Future historians can decide if it's worthwhile--so long as they don't have allergies.
I also discovered what a "silent auction" is, and it was a revelation. You bid on the items by writing your name and your bid on the sheet next to the item, and other people can outbid you, within a certain time limit. It's like ebay, but with real people, and no shipping charges. All the stuff was donated by zoo staff, and I got rid of some things. I loved donating my stuff to this event because the people who got it wanted it enough to pay for it (and sometimes compete for it) and I got to be rid of it. It's like throwing my useless crap out the window without the guilt and angry neighbors.
This year, despite the inferior "prom" theme, I'm determined to have an even better time. I am doing this by getting rid of even more stuff. I've already brought in a few items that didn't sell in the tag sale (life-size goose shaped lamp) and some things I've had kicking around for years (surplus unused machetes). A group of books is on its way, as well as some clutter removed from my dad's house (Uncle Sam Santa riding a bald eagle ornament).
But the big coup for me is the CDs. I have several boxes full of CD accumulated during my time working at a music warehouse (Newbury Comics, for you locals). There's a very narrow range of material(indie rock, post punk) , across a very narrow range of time (about 1992 to 1998). Going through the boxes I'm struck by two things: 1) allergies. I have dust allergies, so old boxes of stuff are like kryptonite to me. 2) how little I actually care about these CDs. I bought a portable hard drive to store all the data on these discs before releasing them from my grasp, but I'm surprised how often I look at a disc and say, "nah, don't need to have that."
The hard part is going to be the papers. Some day I have to deal with dozens of dusty boxes full of documents and magazines that have no intrinsic value to anyone. I'll have to sneeze my way through them sheet by sheet, deciding what reason I had for saving them and if that reason still stands, or if I need to create an archive. I'm thinking I'll get myself a fireproof box, put everything in it, and bury it in as deep a hole as I can dig on my dad's property. Future historians can decide if it's worthwhile--so long as they don't have allergies.