Just what I always wanted; a big box of wires

There was a fantastic cartoon in The New Yorker on January 16th showing a father and son standing in the doorway to what could easily have been my Opa's utility closet two years ago. The father proudly promises his son that the family collection of A.C. adapters, having long outlasted their gadgets, will someday be passed on to the next generation. The A. C. adapters, with their little cord tails trailing behind, remind me of a mice infestation I once had in my apartment. The son has that kid-perfected blank look on his face, conveying the complete opposite of "This is the most exciting day of my life!"

I made the same face when I was cleaning out Opa's storage closet and came across a box on a shelf, way up high in the deep recesses that had not recently been visited. All capital letters written in black marker told me that it held, "WIRES". It was a large box, and it was full. The majority were VCR and television cords, and in his pre-dementia organizational style, they were neatly coiled and labeled. The red, yellow, and white ends even had little pieces of tape to remind him where they belonged. Having had a lifelong love for cameras and related technology, Opa was a big fan of the VCR when it first came out. During his retirement, he spent many hours editing and copying home videos, (and also taping episodes of The Young and The Restless, if he and Oma happened to have an appointment during that hour.) The year I turned 21, he gave me a video about "my life" and I have a tradition of watching it every year on my birthday. I like watching my brother and sister and self goofing around when we were little kids. I like seeing our family dog wagging her tail. I like listening to Opa's voice superimposed over the old Super-8 films. I will never downsize it.

The box of wires though, needed to go. I had no idea what to do with them, so I piled them all onto his desk and took this picture:

Opa's collection of WIRES

I posted it on Craigslist under "free stuff", not expecting much of a response. I was shocked. A dude named Travis replied immediately, followed by four more people within about twenty minutes. I didn't understand what the big demand was for a box of wires, but a more worldly friend explained that people strip them for copper. I arranged to meet the wire-stripping guy at a public place in broad daylight, but he stood me up. I recognize in retrospect that this might have been for the best. Ultimately, I was running out of time on the condo clean-out and had to donate them to Goodwill. I really hope they recycled them, or hooked them up with Travis, or that they made their way into the hands of some other industrious person.

Have you got e-waste accumulating in your closet, basement, or garage?  How many T.V's are you storing? If you think your loved ones are going to be excited about these treasures after you are dead, guess again. My little collection of A.C. adapters is headed to the local transfer station this week, where they will be transported to a recycling center that breaks them down and recycles the metal. The larger stuff (TV's, VCR's, computer monitors) can also be taken there. There is a charge for disposal, and some people criticize this, but I'd prefer to pay somebody to handle it responsibly now than to store it in the barn for thirty more years.

What will you do with yours? This week's Downsize Challenge is to gather up your e-waste and make final disposition decisions. Your community may have a free e-waste collection day in the spring. Ask around. There are many places that have ongoing collection sites, including some major retail stores that sell electronics. If you are not sure where to go, check out Earth911 or the iRecycle app, search for "e-waste" and plug in your zip code. Don't wait for The New Yorker to feature your family in a cartoon!

The aftermath of upsizing season; catalogues weighing you down?

 What do the catalogues in your mailbox say about you?

The retail world has me profiled as an upscale interior designer-landscaping-gourmet chef with a serious interest in high-end electronics, telescopes, and cosmetics, requiring enough outdoor gear for a quick climb up and down Mt. Everest before a breakfast of mail-order sausages and assorted pears. Well equipped with an array of undergarments of various levels of practicality, I am not only prepared for any possible weather conditions or encounters, but ready to cope with the possible consequences of quick changes in and out of my collection of western riding boots, cross trainers, and four inch spike heels, because I am fully stocked with more orthopedic foot product options than a podiatrist.

Though I am not well-rounded or wealthy enough to be half of the shopper the retail companies want me to be, I will admit to you that I’ve had a longstanding catalogue reading habit. I find the process relaxing and the products interesting, particularly if it's two in the morning and I can't fall asleep but am too tired or stressed out to read any literature of substance. It's the same feeling I have when reading SkyMall in a plane. The number of trendy names that can possibly exist for the color that I call blue can keep me entertained for much longer than it should if I am procrastinating to avoid some other task. There have been times in my life when it's felt pretty terrific to get something in the mail that isn't a bill. At this point, there are many days when it's simply fun to imagine a time and place where people wear clothes other than jeans and tee-shirts, or where the desirability of a living room set isn't defined by the stain resistance of its upholstery. Cheaper than cable and safer than a lot of other more destructive vices, is there any real harm in my tea sipping, window shopping, ‘just looking’ retail voyeurism?

When the sheer volume of mailings started to increase last fall, I decided to take inventory. I deliberately saved each catalogue that we received in November and December. On January first, they weighed in at 24.2 pounds! That's a lot of weight sneaking into the mailbox a few ounces at a time, over a two-month period, resulting in NOT ONE SINGLE PURCHASE and ultimately ending up in the recycling bin.

With all of the downsizing I've been doing, I realize that I've been focusing more of my efforts on household exports than imports, and I've overlooked an important opportunity to eliminate waste at the entry point. It's certainly good to recycle this stuff, but for the sake of trees, ink, and the human and fossil fuel energy involved in transporting all of it to and from my home, it would be better to prevent unnecessary mail from showing up in the first place.

If you should chose to accept, this week's Downsize Challenge is to remove your name from mailing lists. 

Contact Mail Preference Service at Direct Marketing Association for more information. Complete a registration form at https://dmachoice.org/dma/member/home.action  Beware: You will have to exercise much more patience than if you simply placed an order, because although catalogue companies are capable of getting a package to your door within 24 hours, it can take three months to see any change in your mailbox.  You may also directly call the catalogue companies and ask that your name be deleted from their mailing list.

This step won't impact the solicitations you are getting from credit card companies, charitable organizations or political parties, or stop the arrival of mail addressed to a deceased loved one, but I promise to tackle those challenges sometime after I load the 24.2 pounds of catalogues into the back of my car for delivery to the recycling center.

UPDATE TO POST: January 27: I finally sat down today to tackle the registration form for mailing list removal. I found the DMA site to be exasperating...I followed the tip from KellyP recommending https://www.catalogchoice.org/ and just spent THREE HOURS entering each of my catalogues from the 24.2 pound stack. Fortunately some were duplicates. I have more confidence in this user-friendly site and would recommend it to others who are trying to eliminate the catalogue mailings. If you enter just a few at a time, it won't take you all afternoon.

Downsizing the IN box: Take the time to unsubscribe

Happy New Year! Has anyone mentioned to you that today is THE LAST DAY FOR FREE SHIPPING? I am pretty sure they are crying wolf, because they said the same thing to me yesterday, and the day before that too. Are you planning to take advantage of up to 50% off of outerwear (I thought about it, but the colors left in stock make me look very ill. Maybe you are one of the lucky ones who can wear something the color of my Oma's split-pea soup and still look fantastic). Thinking of booking a flight starting at $39, (one way, to some city in the midwest in the dead of winter?). Perhaps in your neck of the woods, the spring clothing collection is of legitimate interest already, but sundresses are an unwelcome tease to me right now. And come on, how 'Exclusive' can a 'Deal' really be if I am getting the offer, and so are 50 thousand of my closest friends?

If your 'IN' box has been inundated since the onset of upsizing season, the first Downsize Challenge for 2012 is to take some action. Don't just delete the unwanted incoming messages; Take the time to unsubscribe. Scroll down and find the small print at the bottom of the message. Follow the 'click here' directions. You may have options to simply reduce the frequency of mail from a particular sender, or even the opportunity to give some feedback about your choice to be removed from the list completely. After two weeks of taking the few extra seconds to unsubscribe, I can already see a significant difference in the quantity of my email.

If 2012 is your year to minimize, de-clutterize, and change your relationship with stuff, let's keep each other motivated: comment, share your ideas, make suggestions. But, if you are striving instead to pack your attic, basement, closets, and outbuildings with as much stuff as possible, and you hope to leave behind lots of bent paper clips, old keys, fourth grade science fair project posters, chipped knick-knacks, and cut-off toaster cords in junk drawers for your loved ones to sort someday, and this blog is completely irrelevant to you...I won't be offended at all if you unsubscribe, or stop following, or do whatever it takes to avoid The Downsize Challenge, (unless you are directly related to me).

The complete holiday wish list of a downsizing caregiver

More time with loved ones, near and far,
and someone to vacuum out the car.

iRecycle: the app that my sister (almost) invented

The Keurig coffee maker was the first thing to leave the curb, picked up by a guy on roller blades. We peered from behind the curtains in the front window and watched him read the disclaimer, written in sharpie marker and taped to the box by my very honest sister: "This was given to us by a friend second-hand. We think it probably works, but we never actually tried it. Good luck." I don't know who had higher hopes, the roller-blader with the free find, or my sister, who was on a downsizing binge. She had gathered kitchen gadgets, clothes no longer in favor, sewing fabric, and miscellaneous items from closets, put them all out on the curb with an enticing FREE STUFF sign, and posted an alert on Craigslist. We felt like household goods adoption agents, monitoring the bonding between items and the passers by, but keeping a respectful distance so as not to jeopardize the attachment process. By the end of the day, even the single mugs had found new homes. We were left with a printer with a crooked paper feed, (the disclaimer having probably been too much information in this case), and a few other odds and ends.

Passionate about diverting things from the waste stream, my sister knew exactly where to take the leftovers to increase their chances of being reused or properly recycled. She knew which thrift stores in her community would be likely to resell clothes versus dishes, where to take the electronic waste, and where to donate the leftover craft supplies. Recognizing that not everyone is as obsessed or committed to this cause as she is, she proposed, "Redistribution needs to be easier for people...people aren't against recycling or repurposing, they just don't know what to do with their stuff...they don't have time to spend doing the research...they use up all their energy just making the decision to finally get rid of something, and at that point, they just need a quick solution for disposal... " And then the lightbulb went off, and for the next few hours, two low-tech sisters thought they had invented an App to save the planet.

While reading a magazine the following week, I discovered that we weren't the first people to think of this. It already exists.  iRecycle is available for iOS and Android, or at Earth911on the internet if you are still using a computer. It's easy to use! Enter your zip code, enter the item you are ready to recycle or redistribute, and find your local recycling centers.

You may be very familiar with the resources in your own community, but keep this in mind if you ever find yourself cleaning out the household of a faraway family member.  I wish I had known of this a few years ago...

Let your fingers do the walking

We seem to get a new batch of phone books at least quarterly here, and with competing phone companies and multiple publishers, they accumulate quickly. I just found a 2007 edition under the stack of three 2010-11's, and we didn't even move here until 2009.

With our internet dependence and the increasing intelligence of cell phones, the usefulness of even the most current phone books is debatable, but I still refer to them frequently, and I know for a fact that I am not alone. When Opa and I settled into our new place, I opted for an unlisted number, so that incoming calls would be limited to friends and family who understand our increasingly nocturnal schedule and the unpredictability of sleep in a household where dementia has taken up residence. This completely backfired when a phone book printing error resulted in a flood of urgent calls at all hours from people who found our number misplaced as a local business listing. They sought consultation for septic system and drainage problems, and though caregiving had certainly increased my focus on issues related to plumbing, my trouble-shooting expertise was quite personalized, and I had absolutely nothing to offer the callers other than someone else's phone number.  

Today's downsize challenge is to gather up your out-of-date directories. Your phone book should have a "recycling guide" section that tells you where to put them. In some parts of the country, you will only receive a printed phone book if you ask for one. If you would rather not receive any in the future, click here to opt out of yellow pages delivery by entering your zip code.

 Let your fingers do the walking, right over to the recycling bin.

Where have all the flowers gone? (the case of the empty vase)

empty vases from under the sink...

Opa has always loved having flowers in the house. We are lucky to have a yard with mature gardens that offer many blooms throughout the summer season. The only thing that brings him more joy than arranging them these days is taking their pictures.

When Oma was still alive, bringing home a bouquet from the grocery store, (or sometimes two if they were on sale), carefully measuring and trimming the ends, and displaying them in a vase on the coffee table was part of his weekly routine. After 95 years of birthdays and 68 anniversaries, they were not lacking for empty vases, baskets, or other containers to hold them.

When tackling the pantry, where they were precariously stacked inside each other in topple-over, accident- potentially-requiring-sutures, waiting-to-happen fashion, Mom led the initiative. This was a great place to begin downsizing because it wasn't emotionally loaded. (Generally a good starting point when facing the dismantling of an entire household.) We cleaned, sorted, and boxed up the lot, (at least a dozen baskets, two boxes full of vases, and quite a few holiday themed ceramics) then drove them to the florist who had originally made the deliveries. If they were less than delighted to receive them, they were great fakers.

This week, I decided to do the same with the small collection that was starting to gather under the kitchen sink in our current home. It was a great outing for us and Opa came home with a prize.

Today's Downsize Challenge is to take inventory of your empty vases and make new arrangements for the extras. Personally, as long as I have one thing big enough to hold peonies during the week in June when they bloom, and another thing small enough to hold the daisies, I feel well prepared.

This challenge should be fairly easy on you. Many florists around the country have initiated vase recycling programs. Some even offer discounts or store credit for your return. If your local florist has not thought of this yet, your inquiry might really start something. Please do take the extra few minutes to clean them first. I don't have a dishwasher, but soak mine in dish detergent in the sink to get them in prime condition for reuse. The baskets used for flower arrangements can be re-used too.  If your favorite florist won't take them back, consider finding a new favorite. As for the little water tubes, they might accept those for re-use too, but if not, notice their potential role in other areas of the house.  A few have found new careers in my sewing basket (great as needle holders, for bead storage, etc) and tool box (perfect for little nails and small hardware). And remember, glass and plastic can usually be recycled if all attempts at redistribution fail.

Opa's smile shows the power of a single flower, so pick one today for somebody you love. Don't worry about the vase. There's sure to be one in the utility closet somewhere...