Dorothy Rosby: The fine art of downsizing can be a big mess

By Dorothy Rosby, Journal columnist | Wednesday, August 08, 2007

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There comes a moment in the life of every family, when someone declares it's time to downsize. Usually, this is the adult who owns the fewest belongings.

Other family members seldom react enthusiastically to this suggestion, so the inspired parent appeals to their higher motives. "Wouldn't it be nice to give away the things we don't need anymore to people who do need them?"

No one is persuaded, partly because they think they still need pretty much everything, and what they don't need, they want.

She tries another tactic. She tells them she read that Americans spend 150 hours each year trying to find belongings in their homes. She points out that it might be easier to find what they need if they didn't have to wade through so much of what they don't need. "Just think, another 150 hours to play!"

"But," the children argue, "we won't have anything left to play with."

She appeals to lower motives. She suggests they sell everything they don't need -- or want -- at a garage sale and make some extra cash. "To buy more," says a child.

That settles it. They begin sorting their possessions optimistically, dollar signs in their eyes. But then, they come across items they'd forgotten they even owned, and they remember with a pang how special these once were.

They recall the adventure they were on when they bought the talking trout or the kindness of the person who gave them the Mickey Mouse waffle maker. How can they possibly part with it? Belongings that have been under the bed covered with dust bunnies are transferred to places of honor on crowded shelves.

Someone remembers reading that a ponytail brunette Barbie made in 1959 is now worth more than $10,000. Suddenly, a slightly balding doll with pen marks for jewelry becomes the college fund. They forget that price was indicative of a Barbie that was still in the box hermetically sealed, and that this doll has been lying in the corner of the moldy basement for four years. Nonetheless, it is carefully wrapped in tissue paper and moved to the top shelf of the linen closet.

Many other potential giveaways are foiled by those five little words: "I might need it someday."

The instigator of the cleanup begins to panic. "If it was so darn useful, why has it been in the crawl space covered in spider webs since we moved in 12 years ago?"

The finder counters, "If I'd known we had it, I would have been using it." This is how power cords for unknown devices, parts for long-lost gadgets, jars without lids and lids without bowls find their way back onto cluttered shelves. At least they're up off the floor -- for now.

Other things are too important to throw away. What if the IRS wants to see the receipt for the computer keyboard bought in 1998? Or what if the current owner of the car they sold five years ago wants to see the maintenance schedule? They decide to keep those for now. In other words, they'll save them to throw away later.

By now, the reorganization effort has completely degenerated. When the parents aren't looking, the children snatch broken toys from the trash. And when the children aren't looking, the parents grab the children's discarded toddler toys and tattered baby blankets from the giveaway box -- for the grandkids.

In the end, all the hours, sweat and arguments result in one bag of trash and one small stack in the middle of the living room. Unfortunately, it's not nearly enough for a garage sale. What to do?

After much deliberation, they decide to store it all until there's more.

Contact Dorothy Rosby at drosby@rushmore.com or go to www.dorothyrosby.com