A few years ago, I had my old kitchen remodeled and moved everything out of the cupboards into corrugated boxes. It was an excellent opportunity to evaluate the contents of those cupboards. “Do I really need two muffin tins? Do I even need one muffin tin, given the fact that I’ve not made muffins in years?”
When I moved back into a new kitchen, I had a lot more room and a lot less stuff. And so, I’ve made a careful inventory of all the other rooms in my house and the results are disturbing.
Half the stuff I have I don’t need—and yet I keep it, year after year? Why? Inertia, mostly, and the false belief that maybe someday I’ll make muffins or wear those denim Capri pants or use those polyester dishtowels that don’t dry dishes.
I’ve learned, however, that once I say goodbye to things I don’t need, they disappear from my cupboards and my mind. And when my birthday or Christmas arrives, I tell people that if they must give me something, please give perishables. I’m happy to receive food or flowers or gift certificates to a restaurant. Anything that doesn’t last.
“Perishables,” I say and realize that the word applies to me as well.
Applies to all of us.