minimalist madness began innocently enough. I stumbled upon a documentary about the life-changing magic of tidying up, and suddenly, I was Marie Kondo-ing every drawer, shelf, and dusty corner of my apartment.
The Great Purge (and Its Immediate Aftermath)
Armed with trash bags and the unshakeable belief that less is more, I embarked on the great purge. Clothes I hadn’t worn in years? Donated. Duplicate kitchen utensils I swore I needed “just in case”? Gone. That collection of ceramic frogs I’d been amassing since childhood? Okay, maybe not the frogs.
For about five glorious minutes, my apartment resembled those minimalist havens I’d been ogling online.
Here’s the thing about minimalism they don’t tell you: replacing all your “non-essential” items with “minimalist-approved” alternatives is expensive. Suddenly, I was knee-deep in online shopping carts filled with:
- Bamboo organizers (so many organizers!)
- Matching glass containers for my pantry (because apparently, mismatched Tupperware is a crime against minimalism)
- A $50 minimalist wallet that could barely hold three credit cards, let alone my beloved collection of loyalty cards (because priorities, right?)
My quest for a simpler life had morphed into a consumerist frenzy disguised as self-improvement. The irony was not lost on me.
Did Your Minimalism Attempt Fail Too?
Have you ever attempted to embrace minimalism? Did you succeed or, like me, end up with a closet full of bamboo organizers and a newfound appreciation for the beauty of “organized chaos”?