B.Y.O.B

Near my house is a small market where I buy food. They have a good produce selection and reasonable prices. Its owned and operated by an Arab family and it looks a little dowdy, which is a plus because its never really crowded and I can't understand the other shoppers, so they don't annoy me with their conversations. My only qualm is that they obsessively give me plastic bags. Produce, that is already bagged, gets two more layers of plastic baggery and if an item meets a little resistance on its way in the bag, it just gets its own new double bag. For every one item that I buy, I come away with three plastic bags. At first I did the "life gives you lemons/lemonade," thing and tried to use them as trash bags, but I honestly didn't have that much trash, not to mention the huge tears they tend to get on the short trip home. Suddenly I am surrounded with these wispy ghosts of purchases past floating around the house. They have no heft, so they can't even be hung by their own weight from a doorknob. I fucking hate them.

Fed up, I invested in a set of hippy canvas cloth flour sack looking things for my produce and those stretchy fishnet shopping bags to put it all in. In hindsight this was sort of a waste of money. I could have used an old pillow case if I wanted, the only reason to use the fishnet shopping bag would be to transmit my values to other shoppers. Let me tell you, the line at the super market is not the forum for an ecological, world changing demonstration. Taking - EVEN ONE EXTRA SECOND, would summon the grouchiest, grumpy demons from the shortest queue and the single guys buying nachos and old ladies would start their less than subtle eye rolls and "C'mons....". Sometimes I would be too slow to correct and the well honed bagger would be packing and double bagging my stuff before I could even utter a word. Experience has taught me that if this happens, let them finish. The mental routine of the checkout does not include conscious thought and snapping them out of the trance of bagging groceries and counting money never goes well.

I still use the hippy flour sacks to bag my produce and the Arab market family actually really like them. Where ever they are from, it is how they would carry food home and they like mine because they have a little string which adds a few extra cents to my purchases. The opposite is true at the big super market. I get sneers and raised eyebrows from everyone. They hate the opaque bags because they have to fish through to get the SKU numbers, so I rarely buy fruit from them or I limit it to lettuce and stuff that doesn't need bagging. I gave up on the fishnet shopping bags.They didn't stand up to my dense melon and carton of milk combos. Besides, I was always afraid to buy something small that might fall out. Now I use a great big courier bag which is so big one could convey a sink with it. The act of putting this impressive bag at the end of the convey er eliminates all doubt whether I want paper or plastic. It's does all the talking and it says, "NEITHER FUCKFACE, I BAG MY OWN SHIT!"

Don't be a Slob

By nature I am a slob. A wicked big slob. It was natural for me to put clean and dirty clothes into to same pile, as if by fission I would end up with only modestly funky clothes. The big pile was a prominent feature in the corner of the room. It had books, wet towels, Xacto knives - you name it, and when company came over? I just threw a blanket over the pile. I remember one time I had a guest at the house and I made them wait downstairs while I stuffed everything into a sleeping bag and threw it in a room mates closet. Grody to the max, but when you work too many hours and live with too many roommates who drive you from the house sometimes it's easier to build a false reality than face the real one.

When the time came and I was enlightened to the effects of my slovenly ways it was clear that I wasn't just unorganized, there was a surplus of clothes. I had enough garb in that pile to clothe me for a month and a half without doing laundry, which was frequently the case. It would take two full days to properly wash and dry everything in that pile. Heaps and satellite piles sat in the cellar in big black trash bags waiting for me to get the time, washing only the essential delicates as need dictated.

Years later I reformed. During one of my many purges I sorted out the gristle from my wardrobe. Irredeemably damaged and uncomfortable items went first. Sweaters that were too itchy, shirts that were too tight, unforgivably stained or torn pants were good candidates. Anything that you would wear only because everything else is dirty should not be in the closet. Today I am left with mostly durable, mostly dark clothing. I am still a slob and spill all sorts of things on my person, and still absently wipe my hands on my pants when a towel is out of reach (I have towels everywhere now). I keep work clothes in the closet where I can't see them or touch them and my leisure wardrobe is on a rolling rack, neatly pressed and organized. I like to keep my clothes out in the open to remind myself of how far I have come.

Think that was the worst part? Far from it. This habit wasn't restricted to my dress, everything was like this. Worse than this was the dishes. As long as there was a clean dish to eat off, there were ten dirty dishes that could wait. I didn't do dishes after I ate like I do now, I did them when someone complained, and frequently only washed the dishes I needed. Essentially, the dishes weren't stored in the cupboard, they were stored dirty in the sink. Glasses were all over the house with little petri dishes of dried up whatever in the bottom. In my defense, I didn't live alone and a lot of the trouble came from not taking responsibility for using a glass, or using a similar glass and being confused about which one it was, and there was NO WAY I was washing a room mates glass... In the end we all wound up in a philosophical deadlock, and drank out of travel mugs that were off limits to others. Yes, the glasses all stayed dirty on the windows sills and side tables, I think until we moved.

Much has changed. Far from the punk rock, thrift store dishes, I don't even eat off anything that hasn't won a design award. There are only enough for two or three people, so there is no surplus to pile up. I used to have different cups for different drinks, but now I just have an all purpose glass for cold and hot alike. This sort of thing saves a lot of space on the shelf.

To sum up, minimalism didn't really kill my inner slob, but it made it harder to make a mess. I know myself and my weaknesses and if I hadn't become a minimalist there would still be great big piles all around. Really, how useful is something if you keep in a pile on the floor? Do you even value it? The soultion was so simple: I shouldn't have stuff. No stuff, no mess.

With this perspective it was easy to understand that I was wasting a lot of time and energy moving piles around and sorting through dirty/clean stuff. Its ironic how exhausting being a lazy slob can be. I never really felt comfortable in my home, which caused a lot of other problems. It's funny to tell the story, but at the time it was a pretty terrible way to live.

Get a Wok

I love my Wok. I use it for everything, even to cook food that was never intended for Wokery, like popcorn and fudge. Mine is the Lodge cast iron kind, so I even bake in it. Not fine pastry of course, but anything else that goes in the oven. It may not be the best for that purpose, but its good enough for me, and it means that I don't have to keep a kitchen full of useless pots and pans.

For the minimalist there is nothing better than the Wok. It uses one small burner and concentrates heat effectively and evenly. Wok's are easy to care for, mostly you rinse it with water and wipe it with some oil. Its versatility negates the need to keep an assortment of frying pans, sauce pans, steamers, roasting pans, fish poachers, quesadilla makers, and so on, because it does all those things, and stuff you never even thought of. One glance under the cupboard, at that precarious balancing act of noisy pots would convince anyone to get take out instead.

So, get rid of all that other stuff, and get yourself a Wok.