I’ve written about my interest in minimalism because of my ADHD and also during my Low Buy Year, when I worked on my obsession with retail therapy. What started with an inspiring (German) book — Einfach Leben by Lina Jachmann — roughly three years ago grew to become an approach to life, at least in
“I was suddenly worried about losing Bea. Terrified that this was the start of the downhill slope. The downhill slope to adulthood and suburbia and staying on the sofa 24/7. Was she going to be getting excited about Tupperware parties next? It felt like something had shifted. I felt another stab of guilt for judging
I've already written about life after Low Buy, so we know by now that it didn’t always work out as I wanted it to. Though I spent more money than I hoped I would, I mostly stuck to my wishlist and didn’t escalate. However, there is room for improvement. Now being early July, the first
Mementos, memorabilia, sentimental stuff — we all got it. And sometimes it’s hard — maybe even impossible — to let go. Growing up with grandparents who were the embodiment of the postwar generation’s “Let’s keep that just in case”, I know the drama. There’s the “just in case” factor that still weighs heavily on me,
It’s quarantine day 7 today. I’ve been working from home since Tuesday, this will last until April 13, at least. I’m used to working from home and prefer it to most other ways of work (like office life), so this is not a problem for me. If I need something, I can call my co-workers
…and sh*t hits the fan. Or rather, the shelves. And timelines. Because Karen feels betrayed, and she wants to talk about it. As a result, the minimalism/decluttering/conscious consuming online community goes crazy, in opposite directions. Die-hard fans and design aficionados joyfully anticipate forthcoming sparks of joy from ordering a $200 tea container or a $75