I’ve been on a cleaning spree lately. These always make me happy.
Things I’ve gotten rid of:
- Mismatched snowshoes
The Story: I bought these about 3 years ago at an estate sale for $10. They were both the right side of two different pairs, but the bindings were symmetrical, so it really didn’t matter. One side had an aggressive spike and a heel life, while the other didn’t. I always thought that was hilarious, but it was a shame both didn’t have the heel lift because those are usually more expensive. These were actually useful for friends to borrow on a few occasions, but the heel binding broke while one friend was using them. This was a simple $10 fix, but the other bindings are brittle, too.
The Temptation to Keep: Snowshoes are expensive, and it makes it way easier to bring friends along if you have extra snowshoes around for them to use. Seeing as these were a perfectly functional pair of snowshoes, why not spend the extra $30 to fix all the bindings?
Why I Got Rid of Them: They were kind of ratty-looking, honestly. I thought about some of my friends who are low on cash, don’t have snowshoes, and who might want a pair, but even if I paid the money and fixed those up, who’s to say those friends have all the other gear they need for snowshoeing? My fear is that giving things to people may not actually help them the way I expect, especially if they somehow feel pressured to use them or buy the gear they need. I also feel that it’s too easy to take on burdens for people when they never asked you to do so. Considering I have much nicer pairs friends can borrow, I decided that was good enough. Hopefully someone scores this bargain from the thrift store instead. - Old zero-degree sleeping bag
The Story: After years of failed attempts to find the right sleeping bag, I bought this zero degree bag hoping it would be the end. It was a rectangular bag that fit me really, really well, but it was not designed for backpacking, something I had been longing to start for years. It’s pretty huge, and my friends even made fun of me for it ( 🙁 🙂 ) I believe I only used it once or twice before buying the huge upgrade.
The Temptation to Keep: It fit me so well! It was still useful, even though I now have a zero degree backpacking sleeping bag. Surely, if not me, then a friend could it use it, right?
Why I Got Rid of It: Once you have the gear for backpacking…there’s no going back. I’m sorry. It just doesn’t work that way. It was more spacious, but that never stopped me from sleeping comfortably in the backpacking sleeping bag. Plus, it would basically turn your forearms into hams if you spent enough time rolling it up. That thing was nearly impossible to fit into the stuff bag. I’m sure the ladies don’t mind some extra forearm muscle, but putting that much effort into rolling a sleeping bag is stupid. Oh, I could probably have bought a larger stuff bag, but that’s just dumping money into something I’m no longer using anyway. I decided to square with reality and accept that there’s no going back: I’m all in on backpacking equipment instead, regardless of how well this may have fit me. - Beefy Ironing Board
The Story: When I first moved into my apartment, I had this weird idea that I needed to iron all my shirts. I hated it. It was the worst. But I had a difficult time with my dinky table-top board. I went to Costco and bought their super-beefy ironing board because I figured the wider space would make ironing easier.
The Temptation to Keep: I haven’t ironed really anything in ages, just relying on taking my clothes out of the dryer at the right time. Plus, no-iron fancy shirts are the best, and since I’m in software I don’t really have to dress nice anyway. It was still a good ironing board. It wasn’t hurting anybody in the basement, leaned up against the wall. Right?
Why I Got Rid of It: If I really need to use an ironing board, I can just use the one my friend has in the basement. And yet, after two years, I still haven’t needed to use that. I still have my iron. But that board was so big, it barely fit the contraption I once had in my coat closet in the apartment that allowed me to hang it from the inside of the door. I had to bend the sides of the metal hanger system to get it to fit. Why the heck would a single dude with low-key dress standards for work need something so heavy duty? He wouldn’t. So sure, it wasn’t hurting anybody in the basement. But it was time to accept that this wasn’t the smartest purchase in the world and forward it to the thrift store where some mother of ten can hopefully find it for $5. - Old Bed Frame
The Story: In my early 20s, my parents bought me a new bed in twin extra-long, which was nice because it meant my toes no longer went over the end of the bed. But it was the standard setup of a bed frame with rollers, a box springs, and a thick mattress. Over time the box springs would raise the dead if you just rolled over on it, so I scrapped that for a fold-out frame with extra space. This isn’t the early 1900s – our mattresses are springy enough that box springs are simply redundant. Plus I have way more space under my bed, and it lends a sense of levity to my room because there’s no longer this monolithic wall of bed material taking up eye space. I kind of like being able to vacuum under the bed and keep a few boxes there with plenty of extra space, too.
The Temptation to Keep: There really weren’t many reasons to keep the old frame, but I figured it was worth mentioning this odd case: my parents have always talked about bed frames as if they were valuable. I don’t know that they ever said this, but it always came across that way to me. Somehow. So, instinctively, I was a little hesitant to get rid of it. I guess there are times in life when swinging $60 is difficult, so maybe my brain just latched onto a time when we were moving, or I think my parents held onto an old frame. I’m not sure.
Why I Got Rid of It: But it’s not valuable to me now. I want that lighter feel to things, and box springs are stupid and annoying. Plus I love knowing I can just fold this new frame up. I even asked my parents if they wanted the old frame for any reason, but they said no. And spiders really loved it in the basement. Really, really loved it. Perfect angles for web-weaving. Dirty buggers. So it was off to the thrift store, and good riddance! - Legos
The Story: I love Legos. They are close to my heart. I’m not getting rid of them all by any means, simply thinning them out.
The Temptation to Keep: As a grown-ass man, there’s only so much you can do with Legos. You can built projects that look cool and make you feel good…and you can set them on display. You can buy sets and build them…and you can set them on display. That’s really all you can do. So what about those sets you bought because they were “cool”, but for some reason you never set them on display? It’s tempting to keep all of these because the sets have a few useful parts here and there, and wouldn’t those be useful for some projects? Aren’t the sets still cool?
Why I’m Getting Rid of (Many of) Them: I do three kinds of projects: people projects where I build minifigs to look like friends and coworkers, mech projects, and building projects. I really do absolutely nothing else. Bulk does not help with this. If you have too many bricks, you are probably never getting anything done. But when you have just the right bricks, you can stay focused. So sure, some of these sets are “cool”, but they just sit in the boxes doing nothing. Thinning them out allows me to achieve the organization I need to start doing the projects that matter to me again.
Love that extra space! It feels good to clean up and downsize again. Things are much more easily acquired than gotten rid of!