A year ago, I embarked on a month-long declutter challenge, during which each day I had to donate, sell, or throw away the same number of items in my home as the day of the month it was. On the 1st – one item; on the 2nd – two items. You get the idea. Items can be as small as a dried up pen and as large as a piece of furniture. Doesn’t matter as long as you get it out of your living space if it no longer serves a purpose for you. After 31 days, in theory, you will have removed 496 unnecessary things from your home. That’s a lot of unnecessary things.

I did that one year ago.

I did it again six months ago.

And I am currently doing it now.

Before you become concerned that I’m living in an empty home, eating cereal straight out of the box, slumbering in a sleeping bag on the floor, and reading by candlelight while I lounge in an aluminum folding lawn chair, fear not! I have not reached that level of minimalism… yet.

While I don’t want you to think my aggressive decluttering campaigns have left me living sparsely, I also I don’t want you to think that I live in a mansion and spend money frivolously. My home is a two bedroom, 900-square-foot apartment, with no basement. I probably don’t spend my money wisely 100% of the time, but I can’t remember the last time I went shopping (other than for food). I don’t hang out at the mall, certainly don’t dress like a fashion plate, and am more likely to feed my notorious reading habit by utilizing my beloved public library than a bookstore (though I am a big fan of brick and mortar bookstores, especially the small, local independents… but I digress).

Despite my recent decluttering and my attempts to live fiscally responsibly, there’s still plenty in my home for me to discard.

And to everyone who knows me… no… I am not getting rid of my robust inventory of notebooks and writing paper. I actually do use all of that… just not at the same rate at which I buy all of that. Paper for me… well, it’s a thing.

Anyhoo…

It’s just that as I look around my home there’s so much I don’t need or use. I had six pairs of shoes I have worn only once or twice because they hurt my feet or I just don’t love them as much as I thought I did. Why am I keeping them? Because they are cute or were a very good deal are not good enough reasons. If I’m not going to wear them, I can donate them and let someone else enjoy them (unless they hurt their feet too, and then I’m very sorry).

Blouses, pants, and sweaters in my closet that I was keeping for WHEN I get back down to that size, but I never liked them when I could fit in them. Photographs that were blurry or duplicates of duplicates. Hair and skin care products that didn’t make me look like a supermodel, though they promised to (the bastards!). Socks I hated because they bunched up around my ankles or twisted around my toes. Bras that strangled me. A pile of unread magazines with covers boasting articles I was certain I wanted to read but never did. Punchbowls for parties I never throw. A Christmas tree that has seen better days. Art supplies for crafts I tried once and decided I never wanted to do again.

Not to get all Marie Kondo on you, but all of those things that I had been keeping, even though I had no use for them, were not sparking joy. They were sparking disorganization and anxiety.

I read something once that I’ve been repeating as I sort through the myriad of things scattered across the square footage of my home: “If you were moving across country would you want to move this?”

The answer is almost always NO.

I can hear some of you wailing with angst, “Karen, what if I need it someday?”

To that I say, there’s a pretty good chance that if you do need it someday you won’t know where you put it, it will no longer be in style, or, as often happens with me, you won’t remember you even had it.

Let me tell you a story. My mother was a world-class hoarder. She kept a very neat and clean home, but the cabinets, closets, and basement were always crammed with things that she was sure she might need someday. We moved a lot when I was kid because of my dad’s job, and there were boxes that had moved across state lines three and four times, from one home to the next, without ever being opened. When I would suggest she get rid of them, my mother would indignantly proclaim that she might need them someday. I’d try to remind her that she didn’t even know what was in the boxes and hadn’t opened them in 10, 20, or even 30 years, but she was not to be persuaded.

One day I was visiting her, and she was cleaning out the hall linen closet. Now, mind you, this was a closet in a home in which I had never lived, but she had my old curling irons, hair dryers, and hot rollers in this closet. I told her we could pitch or donate those but she refused because… you guessed it… I might need them someday.

Then she pulled something out of the closet and handed it to me. It was still in the package and she was so proud of it. “Look,” she said. “This was only $1.”

I looked at it, turned it over, tried to figure out what it was, and finally surrendered. “What is it?” I asked.

She replied, “I don’t know, but it was only $1.”

When I asked her why she bought something when she didn’t know what it was, she looked at me like I was her dumbest child and emphasized, “It was only a dollar!”

When I suggested she get rid of it because she didn’t even know what it was, she yelled, “But I might need it someday!”

She never needed it, folks.

So if you are saving something that you have no use for today on the off chance that future-you will be grateful to present-day-you for having the foresight to hang on to it, I have only one thing to say: “Let it go. You’re never going to need it someday.”