This is how I spent my New Year's Eve: up in the attic, pulling out things to take to the thrift shop. I've never been much for making New Year's resolutions, but this year it just seems like something I need to do--like my psyche is pointing me in this direction. I really love our house, but it's too full to work as well as it could. One day I found myself daydreaming about adding on a few rooms. Nuh uh. That is not the solution.
Remember throwing out fifty things? I've probably thrown out two hundred and fifty things since then. Each time, I delve a little deeper into the layer of permaclutter that has blanketed the house. What's interesting to me is how the goal keeps changing. I'm no longer content to have a place for everything and everything in its place. Now I want to open things up, create more space, and have room to breathe.
I'm still going to have stuff. I'm not a minimalist. Those interiors in Dwell are very appealing, but I know I couldn't live like that. But I can do better.