We’ve all seen those aspirational photos: a pristine white room, a single plant adding a pop of color, a lone book resting artfully on a floating shelf. “This is it,” I’d whisper to myself, scrolling through minimalist home decor on Pinterest, “This is the life I’m meant to live.”
The Great Purge of 2023 (and Why It Backfired)
Armed with a donation bin and the zeal of a Marie Kondo disciple, I embarked on my minimalist journey. Out went the mismatched mugs, the clothes I hadn’t worn since high school, and the stack of magazines promising “easy six-pack abs” (spoiler alert: they lied).
The initial purge felt amazing. My apartment, usually resembling a disaster zone after a pillow fight in a confetti factory, was… dare I say… spacious? I basked in the glow of my accomplishment, convinced I had finally achieved enlightenment through empty surfaces.
My minimalist high, much like my attempt at baking sourdough bread, was tragically short-lived. It started subtly. A “necessary” purchase of a new coffee maker (with a built-in milk frother, because priorities). Then came the “sale” at my favorite bookstore (who can resist discounted novels?). And before I knew it, my once-pristine shelves were groaning under the weight of ceramic cacti and scented candles.
My biggest downfall? Throw pillows. I have a weakness, an undeniable attraction to these soft, plush rectangles. My minimalist vow dictates a maximum of two per couch. Yet, there I was, justifying a purchase of three more (they were on clearance, okay?!) because “they added texture.”