Minimal effort

Update on local natural disasters: In a recent post we suggested that, since our area has recently experienced a spate of natural disasters, including ones that we do not usually have here, perhaps we were also due for a volcanic eruption. We evidently neglected to make it clear that we were just kidding.


Although there has been no volcanic eruption, Hurricane Irene, apparently miffed at being labeled "lame," has ordered Tropical Storm Lee to, quote, "let 'em have it." Flood waters are erupting in inconvenient places, such as down the main street of our town. We believe the prudent course of action is to stop talking about natural disasters, effective immediately. That, and perhaps get the boogie board out.


For some time now the Hero has been resolved that we should live a minimalist lifestyle, making our home a model of freedom from clutter and excess. To this end he scours articles, photos, anything that depicts and glorifies the minimalist lifestyle and expounds upon how to achieve it.


"Look," he will say in reverential tones while browsing the web, "here's a picture of a minimalist living room."


I will peer at the picture, which depicts a room that would look not out of place in a prison. It contains a couch, a TV, and a box of Kleenex that appears to double as a coffee table.


"But where do they put their stuff?" I say.


"What stuff?"


"The stuff they use to LIVE," I say.


"That's it," he says. "That's what they live with."


"Impossible," I declare. "They must have a hidden closet somewhere." 


"We should live like that," he says wistfully, looking again at the picture.


"Or we could just tack up the picture somewhere."


He reminds me of our own goal to pare down.


"I never agreed to become a minimalist," I point out. "My lips have never repeated the Oath of Minimalism."


He is chagrined at having overlooked this.


It's not as if I don't support the idea to some degree. In fact, I support anything that will mean less cleaning and straightening. I do object to my living room looking like a prison cell, though.


For a long time even the Hero's commitment to living with less stuff waxed and waned. I knew he was serious when boxes of homeless computer parts, even whole computers, began to leave our house. For the Hero, this is like sending a child off to strangers, never to know of their eventual fate.


"I'm so proud of you," I say.


"Well, I had to make room so we can get a smaller computer," he says.


I remind him of his -- our -- goal. "There's no computer in that minimalist photo," I say.


He does not see this as jeopardizing the goal. Ever the mathematical thinker, he declares that net space is being conserved, and therefore we are still within the bounds of minimalization.


I have coped with the effort of advancing toward minimalism indoors by becoming a maximalist outdoors. The garden, the patio -- ah, here clutter is still welcome...


"Can we PLEASE not have any more hanging flower baskets on the porch?? They keep getting in my way!"


...at least welcome to me.