THE NARRATIVE ARC

Dragons in the Drawers: Why Decluttering Hurts So Damn Much

Slay your decluttering dragons

Image by author: His dog sitting by the tin from the article

I’m moving. My wife and I are off to start a simpler, more community-based life back in my hometown in the Scottish Highlands.

Before we can pack a single box, we have a dragon to slay: decluttering. And this dragon hoards guilt, not gold.

Sometimes it’s obvious what goes and what stays:

Books? Pack ’em. My wife’s jumper that I hate? Donate it when she’s not looking. My novelty Wrong Trousers pen holder from Wallace and Gromit? Pack it, clearly.

But other times it’s not so obvious. While clearing out the kitchen, I found a metal tin with a brick of green tea in it. I emptied it out — the tea had long since expired — and thought, “This tin is pretty cool.”

My wife, the source of most of my good ideas, suggested I use it to store art supplies. Genius.

I imagined pulling out this tin while walking down the banks of a river and stopping to badly sketch some wildlife, as if I was living the life of an old gentleman. Which is odd, considering my disdain for period drama, but whatever.