So. Much. Stuff.

The iconic Golden Gate Bridge framed by our street (and our moving truck).  I loved that this view welcomed us home each night.

Big announcement: Cam and I moved!  

Not very far -- as the crow flies it's only about 12 miles north of our (now previous) apartment.  But it still feels like a big move; from San Francisco, with a population of 825,000, across the Golden Gate Bridge to a pastoral valley town of about 12,000.  

We made this move for a host of reasons, but the main motivation was to be closer to nature and to have more space now that we both work from home with frequent conference calls (I took more than one call from our bedroom closet last month). 

The little bungalow we found to rent fit all our needs: sunshine, outdoor space, LAUNDRY (I don't when I'll get used to how awesome this is), and a garden for our beloved plants and now, to grow vegetables!

I'll tell you more about this awesome space (with photos) soon, but for now I need to get something off my chest.  

There is never a time when we are more aware of the psychic burden and physical weight of our stuff than when we have to literally move it.  

Pack it.  Label it.  Stack it.  Lift it.  Carry it.  

Worry about it breaking.  (Secretly hope it all breaks.)  

Bring it up stairs.  Haul it down the hallway.  Unpack it.  Find a new home for it.

And I cannot tell you how many times in the past week I have said in total exasperation,

"We have so much stuff."

All our possessions in the world (bed and plants still to come).  At this point, I was almost hoping the moving truck would lose our address so we could start fresh.

Wait a second, I thought you were a minimalist?  Aka: How did you and Cam get here, to this place of "so much?"  

My journey to minimalism uncoincidentally coincided with my move before this one (I say "I" because Cam's own venture into minimalism has it's own timeline).  Six years ago, almost to the day, Cam and I moved  into our first shared apartment together.  We were 26 and 25 respectively, just getting a sense of who we wanted to be in the world.  I didn't know it at the time, but I was entering a deep, challenging, amazing period of transformation in my life.

With the two of us moving in together as partners, finally roommate-free for the first time, we were able to define what "home" meant to us.  What values from our homes growing up we wanted to bring, what we wanted to adapt, what we wanted to invent together. 

Our almost empty apartment.  Seeing the space like this reminded me of the day in 2010 when we first saw it -- and immediately fell in love.

 Bucking our maximalist lifestyle.

Through my mid-20s I hadn't really questioned my consumer-centric way of being.  I never got rid of anything that could potentially be used or worn.  I was dragging around clothing I'd had since junior high, for goodness sakes.  I admit, I was a maximalist, believing that more was obviously  better than less.

Yet now with two people's stuff combined into one home, we were forced to start making decisions lest we suffer bruised shins from running into one of our THREE dressers (yes, we had three dressers despite our new walk-in closet).  

Did we want to live in a stuffed-to-the-brim, filled space, or could we find a way to combine our stuff into one?  Was this stuff worth fighting over?  Worth cramming into a drawer?  With this opportunity for a blank slate, was this the way we wanted to have our first home feel?

From these original discussions (and arguments) two budding minimalists were born.

Over the subsequent 2,000 days from first moving in together, we have completely changed the way we act in our space.  I'd estimate that we've sold or donated 60-70% of our stuff from that time.  In my heart and mind, I'd embraced minimalism as the type of lifestyle that best serves me, my goals, my dreams.  

Cam on moving morning in front of our silly little light blue and blonde brick building.

Enter current day: For the past several years I've operated under the assumption that our possessions were thoroughly minimized (heck, at one point I only owned 100 personal items!).  Our bathroom closet was almost humorously empty.  I had so much space in our pantry that I used it as another room, placing artful branches and family photos on the mostly sparse shelves.

And yet.  And yet...

When it came time to pack up a few weeks ago, I was blown away by how much stuff we had.  Totally floored.  

I think in moving, we were forced to take in the sum total of what we do still own.  And given my desire to be free from clutter and excess and unwanted items, it meant that every single thing I packed had to be evaluated and deemed worthy... or not.  

While it was certainly tiring (draining might be more accurate), it resulted in a big car's worth of donations and several items being given to friends (note: those whom specifically requested them:) and 5 additional bags of donations since we've gotten settled.

Lesson: We expand to fit our containers.  

Kyle and I have learned this a hundred times over with our clients, but at last I realized it happened to me as well. Essentially, it's the Parkinson's Law of space: as much space as we are given, we will fill.  

But the intentional minimalist can right-size or shrink into any chosen container (like a small backpack for a month or two carry-on bags for an entire wardrobe).  

Right-sizing into our new space.

Sneak peak of our new (rental) home: no new furniture, but fun, new feel.  Also a fireplace!

Not only did the act of moving encourage us to pare down, we've actually found that in our new, larger space we have way less storage.  (Bless the wise and practical folks of the 1930's who hadn't yet discovered walk-in closets.) 

Everything we own is no longer tucked neatly into a cavernous closet.  Nope, now almost all our stuff is out in the open, fully exposed.  So for each item we keep, we have to either effortfully and thoughtfully give it a home in our sparse storage or decide that we're ready to let it go. 

To be honest, it's the perfect spot for an I-thought-I-was-a-minimalist to put her values to the test. I will be reporting on the final product. Wish us luck!

The $21/Month Cell Phone Plan (It's Real, I Promise)

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A few questions for you:

• Does paying 3-figures for monthly cell phone service piss you off?

• Do you have something better to do with $75 dollars a month than pay for the advertising budget of a company that doesn’t care about you?

• Are you interested in speaking with the people around you instead of staring at a tiny glowing screen all day?

• Do you usually use your phone’s wireless capabilities when tethered to your at home or work wireless?

• Do you use your computer for most of your downloading/uploading/video watching?

If you answered “Yes” to 2 or more of the above questions, keep reading below 'cause I've got something amazing for you!

Bigger isn't better. 

While Verizon might have a million different stores in which to provide you with mediocre service and passive-aggressive ad campaigns aimed to take down AT+T like a junior high frenemy, they no longer have my business.

Call me crazy, but paying over $100/month in cell phone bills plus $250 every second year for my "free upgrade" isn't my idea of a good time.  And ever since Cam and I got rid of cable in February, I've been on the lookout for more ways to save money and sanity within our "base expenses."

Bye bye Comcast, smell ya later Verizon.

It’s no secret that I hate Comcast.  I hate them for their miserable customer service almost as much as I despise their over-priced cable and internet.  When Cam and I dropped cable in February, we instantly began saving $120 a month and hours of our lives.

I was beginning to feel the same with Verizon.  Though they have mediocre customer service it’s incomparably better than Comcast.  I hated how expensive my bills were.  I hated how I hate to wait 2 years to get a free upgrade that actually cost $200 plus random fees like restocking and moron tax.  

But again, like with my internet, I thought I didn’t have much choice.  AT&T was just as expensive with shittier service.  T-Mobile still required that you buy a phone at full price.  What's a minimalist to do?

"Ting - mobile that makes sense."

Then I found Ting (via my mentor Mr. Money Moustache).  Ting runs off of Sprint’s towers/network but costs about an eighth of a Sprint bill.  Amazing, right?

Oh, and did I mention that you can bring your own phone to it?  Oh, and there is no long term contract — just month to month?  Oh, and you can change your plan mid-month if you’re using more or less data? 

So it’s pretty much perfect.  How the hell do they do it?  

Instead of spending all millions of dollars filming “Can you hear me now?” or “What does this map look like?” commercials, they run by referrals and free press.  They don’t have brick and mortar stores (even less overhead) because they are not trying to sell you a bunch of bullshit accessories or even fancier phone. 

Just good cell service, amazing costs, fabulous customer service.  The only trick is you have to know about them in order to use it.  Check out Ting here.

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Pros: 

• When I’m out and about in SF I have full 5 bars of 3G service everywhere.  

• I can easily connect to my home internet for full (and free) internet usage.  

• My monthly bill is $83 cheaper (see graph above with my $21 total).  

• You can cancel anytime you want.  

• You can buy a new phone at anytime you want.

• You can add another line for $6 a month.  Seriously.  For the cost of one venti soy mocha Cam and I can be on our own “family plan.”

• Now that I no longer have an "unlimited" contract, I'm much more aware of my cell phone and data usage.

Cons: 

• Slightly worse service than Verizon (can’t get service in my apartment’s stairwell or in my bathroom for example — don’t ask why I know that second part).  

• Sprint’s map doesn’t have as much national converage as Verizon.  I should be set in the places that really matter (Bay Area and back in Chicago).  And maybe service will be fine in wine country.  Or maybe when I’m in wine country I can focus on drinking wine and being with friends and savoring the rows of vines… You know, maybe.

• Now that I no longer have an "unlimited" contract, I'm much more aware of my cell phone and data usage.

For those hungry for more info on the process:

In order to switch to Ting you need a Sprint network phone.  I was unaware that each network had their own version of iPhone, for example.  So I purchased a refurbished iPhone 4s from Amazon for just over $200.  I backed up my phone on my iCloud account and then turned on and created the setting for my new phone — so I could see all my apps and mail live on both phones even though I didn’t have cell service yet.  I sold my astonishingly shattered Verizon iPhone 4s to a local electronics store for $60 after wiping it clean and making sure all my info had ported over to my new number.  

I was able to do everything online and be activated on my new Ting plan in a few hours.  Since then it looks like I will use only the “Small” plan for texts and data, but the "Medium" for minutes (between our amazing new clients and my sisters, this was to be expected:)  

Also, since I’m moving from the unlimited plan I’ve had my entire cell-phone life, it’s making me much more conscious of my usage.  At first it was just to save money but as with any behavior, once you are aware and notice it, you can decide how it affects your life and change it.  I’ve realized that I am super guilty of just zoning out in line or on transportation, reading some news app or scrolling through Instagram.  Now I save all of that for specific times of day at home, when I'm focused on the articles or photos and not out enjoying the real world.

How about you?  Would you switch networks?  What are your concerns?  

Want to Buy Something You Can't Afford? Let Me Show You How.

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image via

I've long had a rule in my home: one thing in, one thing out.  

This is pretty much the first commandment for all folks looking to keep space simplified and organized.  For example, in order to keep myself on track in my closet, I have a set number of hangers (the same number I had when I owned 105 Things).  So if I happen to come home from my favorite used-clothing store with a new sweater I'm forced to part with something else before I hang that sweater up.

This has worked wonders for both Cam and I: keeping our closet clean, making our combined "getting dressed" time about 2 minutes, and making it a breeze to pack for trips.  

I also have another rule: I will never go into consumer debt again.  Ever ever ever.

Anyone who has ever been in debt knows it is a shitty place to be.  You are treading water while weight (debt, anxiety, bills) keeps piling up, the threat of going under terrifyingly close by.  Once I finally became debt free in 2011 I swore up and down that no matter the circumstances, I would not let myself create a credit card bill I could not pay off.

So even though the first few years of a new business tend to be quite lean, I've had to find a way to keep my non-essentials well within my income.  And as I've spent more years inside of a minimalist home, I've found my consumer wants to be greatly tempered.

But I am human and there are still a few things I really, really want... Which is why I've become a master as selling the things I don't.

I've started calling this my Vitamix Principle (because I'm obsessed with getting one but man are those babies are pricey).  Basically it means this: if there is something that I want and cannot afford, I sell things I own and don't love until I've raised enough money to buy the new item.

This way I never dip into savings or go overboard on a credit card AND I have a built-in system for getting rid of things I don't need.

Let's use my Vitamix as an example of how this all works.  
 

1. In general, when you resell an item you should plan on getting approximately 25% of what you paid for it.  Of course this varies greatly across items (an iPhone with the box and accessories will sell for 50% of retail while a sweater from a discount retailer like Old Navy will sell for 5-10% of original price) but serves as a good rule of thumb.

2. This means that you need to sell 4 items of the same retail value as the item you want to purchase.  

3. Once you've selected the items to sell, you need to choose the best method for resale: ebay, craigslist, consignment, or a mobile app.  Your sales method is largely determined by the item itself; heavy items don't ship well so craigslist might be best, name brand clothing sells like hotcakes on ebay, furniture is easily consigned.

4. Keep record of the items you've sold and for how much.  Once you've reached your goal amount, you can:

5. Go buy you new item!

The best part of this process?  It's a lot of work. 

And that's great because so much of our consumption is done so mindlessly, effortlessly.  Want to know how much thought I give to a book before I press the 1-Click Purchase button?  Almost none.

Want to know how much thought I give to buying a $400 blender?  A blog post and a 6 hours of re-selling items worth.  And having been in debt before, I think that's a good thing.

Try it out yourself!

Next time you see a sweater or bag or appliance you really want make a note of it's price.  Then go home and find 4 things of about the same sticker price that you don't need and sell them.