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Life&Style

Stuck in Purge-atOLy 2. cecrine vw rorin

By Laurel Borrowman,
Life & Style Editor

I have way too much stuff. You
probably do too. Stuck in Purge-atory
is a weekly chronicle of the quest by
my roommate Emily and I to get rid
of extraneous excess in our lives by
giving away or throwing out one thing
everyday until the end of time.

wo words I have loathed

this week: Black Friday. The

day following American
Thanksgiving seemed to infiltrate
everything over the past five days.
Walking to the bus from home,
I saw street poles plastered with
flyers promoting the biggest sales
of the year. Logging into Facebook,
my news feed was riddled with
updates about Black Friday. I even
got emails from concert promoters
touting their Black Friday parties.

Last time I checked, I lived in
Canada. I just checked again, and
I am definitely in Canada. So why
are we going so ape-shit for this
fabricated American holiday?

I’m not against our neighbours
to the south altogether, but concepts
like Black Friday make me detest
what the nation is so often defined
by. How can a country become so
well-known for, so proud of a day
like this? It’s love for consumerism,
and as it turns out, Canadians aren't
so different.

But, amongst the heaps of posts
and advertisements and promotions
all supporting Black Friday, I
received one refreshing email on
Wednesday from Vancouver-based
anti-establishment organization,
Ad Busters Media (the folks
who started Occupy Wall Street)
reminding me of Buy Nothing Day.
The 20% Annual Buy Nothing Day,
in fact.

Buy Nothing Day came as
a backlash to Black Friday, a
counterattack to over-consumption.
I think it is great, but admit my
head starts to spin after being
inundated with these two very
strong, very dichotomous ideas for
the past week. Buy everything! Buy
nothing! What I really want is some
balance.

What I really did was get rid
of more stuff, which brings me to
this week in Purge-atory. It brings
me to every week in Purge-atory.
It’s a constant reminder that I can
keep getting rid of things—clothes,
knives, shoes, shower curtains,
songs, phone numbers—and I will
still have everything I need. As we
enter another holiday season, we
will get bombarded with message

10

after message insisting that material
gifts = happiness = love = better

= more friends = conquering the
planet!

That’s an overstatement, but
my point is that Tyler Durden had
it right when he said, “You're not
the car you drive. You’re not the
contents of your wallet. You’re not
your fucking khakis.”

There was no particular theme
this week, but the objective of this
experiment is simply getting rid of
stuff and to not think about it too
much; a theme is unnecessary. And
as this dumb Friday approached,
my senses were heightened to the
excess I live in; maybe a knee-jerk
reaction to the impending season
of buy-buy-buy. Maybe hearing
about the pepper-sprayings and
black eyes amongst the chaotic
masses partaking in this ridiculous
“holiday” made me want to rebel
against it even more. I don’t want
to just not buy anything; I want to
make an effort to live minimally
and focus on what is important.

I understand that it doesn’t
feel that simple sometimes, and
when you've spent your hard-
earned dollars on something, it’s
normal to feel obligated to keep it.
In the past week, I spent too much
time at my T-shirt drawer going,
“Hrm. Um. Errg. Ah. Dang. But
what if... No, I couldn’t... But I just
never wear... But what if there’s a
night when... And then I need...”
I went on a Threadless binge last
year when I had some money, and
over time, realized that I wear
very few of those witty, silly, ironic
shirts. Yet they occupy space in
my overflowing T-shirt drawer as
if they in regular rotation. In the
end, I did it. I cut the chord this
week on the “Polar Bear vs. Killer
Whale” shirt (wild animals fighting
in print form? It was a tough one),
and a bunch of other stuff. There is
someone else that will get far better
use out of that shirt than me.

For you, maybe the excess isn’t
in your T-shirt drawer; maybe it’s
your cell phone case collection.
Whatever it may be, just be
conscious this season of what you
really need.

On the Emily-front, I’m sad
to say she had a ripping cold this
week. In turn, she purged a butt-
load of phlegm. By Thursday
though, she was on the mend, and
she effing brought it.

I give you week three.

Friday (not the Black one)
Me: Some shirts. The
aforementioned Threadless shirt,

included. I already forgot about it.
Wait...what are we talking about?

Em: We'll get to Em on
Thursday.

Saturday

Me: More shirts. Woke up late
after hitting Ice Cream Social on
Friday night. Remind self, “Self,
getting rid of stuff in post-Friday-
night haze is wise. Few brainwaves
equals less brainpower for internal
debate on keeping or tossing
material goods.”

Em: See Thursday.

Sunday
Me: Fail.
Em: See Thursday

Monday

Me: Our kitchen has one
drawer, filled with rolls of
aluminium foil, bag clips, twist
ties, dull knives, and other stuff we
never use. Remove two hand-me-
down knives acquired (with love)
from my dad’s reject-pile when I

moved into my first solo apartment.

Grew up with these knives. Don’t
think they’ve been sharpened since
then. Have enough knives. Wrap in
bag, place on back alley dumpster.
Hope neighbours don’t think I am
endorsing back alley brawling.

Em: Cold sets in. Begins

phlegm-purge.

Tuesday

Me: Keep with kitchen theme.
Browse nearly bare cupboards.
Note six month-old rice cakes and
an “energy bar” that sounds like
a slice of iced cake in a wrapper
with action-font on it (maybe
not nutritious, but will match
cockroaches on the list of Things
That Will Survive a Nuclear
Holocaust). Not good. Trashed.

Em: Riding the phlegm train
hard.

Wednesday
Me: Another two T-shirts. Also

from the kitchen, a hostile Thermos.

Hostile because it’s missing the
seal insert (you know, the part that
screws in inside the cup-like cap
and keeps the liquid in). The few
times I need a backup Thermos, I
pour my hot coffee into this one
thinking, “Maybe today it will be
different,” do a tip-test, only for the
coffee to explode out the cup-cap.
ALWAYS. Each time, vow not to
be deceived again. Still use. Not
anymore. The back alley is two
T-shirts and one shitty Thermos
richer.

Em: So. Much. Phlegm.

Thursday

Me: Suede ankle boots. So close
to being rad, but just So. Not. Rad.

Em: I come home from work to
the shiniest apartment in the land,
and her list after having her way
with our place for the day:

1 pair $4 camel shoes from
Pushkar, India. Reversible, as in,
can wear on either foot. Have
holes. Novelty of ambi-footedness
insufficient to keep. Chord, cut.

1 pair PF Flyers (the original
Cons). Such emotional attachment,
so infrequently used.

3 pairs gardening gloves. We
don’t even have a garden, let alone
three gardens...

2 pairs bike gloves. All you
need is one good pair.

1 silly little scarf

1 biking rain jacket

1 set of decorative crow decals.
Those kind you'd get from Ikea that
“bring flight to your whole room”
or something. We’ve been “meaning
to put them up” for the past year
and a half. Chord, cut.

4 pairs Bootie Shapers. Not
your bum, but your boots. Went
to fancy film party, complete with
parting swag-bag gifts containing
many awesome free things, and
many stupid free things. Like
plastic roll-up tubes meant to keep
your boots in shape: the epitome of
crap you don’t need.

1 quarter bag of flour, which
has been attracting grain moths.
Didn’t know grain moths were a
thing. Luckily, they aren’t anymore.

Stay tuned. Who knows what
we'll get rid of next week!

This week, by the numbers:

Days in Purge-atory: 21

Collective weekly target: 14

Items collectively purged this week:
27(ish)

Items that didn’t actually leave the
apartment: 0

Total items purged this week: 27
Total items purged to date: 54

 

THIS WEEK, BY THE
NUMBERS

 

Days in Purge-atory: 21
Collective weekly target: 14
Items collectively purged this
week: 27(ish)

Items that didn’t actually leave the
apartment: 0
Total items purged this week: 27
Total items purged to date: 54