So, I live in a super-small space with three cats, one mismatched coffee table set, and a growing suspicion that I am no longer in charge here.
Like any adult whose Pinterest boards are probably better organized than my actual life, I decided to "declutter." I imagined a sleek, tranquil space with clean lines, neutral tones, and no shame. I now sit atop a pile of half-sorted Goodwill bags, sipping coffee from a novelty mug that says “I Paused My Show for This.”
Let’s discuss:
Step 1: Mentally Prepare to Let Go of the Clutter — and Your Dignity
Decluttering, in theory, is supposed to bring peace. In practice? It's a passive-aggressive negotiation with your past self.
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“Do I need six half-burned candles?”
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“What if I suddenly become the kind of person who hosts dinner parties and needs twelve fine water glasses?”
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“This broken garlic press has been with me since college. That means something, right?”
At one point, I asked my cat BoBean if she thought I should toss a second-hand bread maker I’ve never used. She didn’t respond, unless blinking slowly counts as judgment. Me thinks it does!
Step 2: Create Piles (and Watch the Cats Destroy Them)
The method I used was “the floor method” — where you make separate piles for Keep, Donate, Trash, and "Existential Crisis." Within 14 seconds, my cat Sprinkles had knocked over the 'Donate' pile and curled up in the middle of it like the Queen of Emotional Hoarding.
I now have three piles:
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"Was clean."
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"Has a fat cat on it."
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"Smells weird now."
Step 3: Fight the Urge to Buy Storage Bins Instead of Actually Decluttering
So... I got distracted halfway through and spent 90 minutes on Amazon looking at aesthetically-pleasing baskets. I now own 4 new bins -- on the way soon -- and nothing to put in them because I never actually got rid of anything.
Storage is just a Band-Aid over a hoarding wound. You don’t need more bins; you need fewer regrets from Target and GW.
Step 4: The Cats Will Sabotage You — Accept It
Every time I opened a cabinet to purge, it seemed there was a cat inside. Every time I taped a box shut, someone tried to sit on it. At one point, Flapjack (yes, that’s his name) physically dragged a sweatshirt back out of the “Donate” pile and onto my bed. Was he protecting me? Or, the sweatshirt?
I’ll never know. But now we both sleep with it.
Step 5: Define Success Realistically
In the end, I didn’t achieve minimalism. I achieved “shoved things into drawers until it looked passable and lit a candle.” That’s victory in my book because, after all, isn't cleaning actually placing things in less obvious places?
I have 20% more space, 80% less guilt, and 3 cats who are still ignoring the $80 bed I bought in favor of a broken laundry basket. Minimalism isn’t about perfection — it’s about choosing what matters.
And sometimes, what matters… is keeping the novelty mug that makes you laugh.
Coming soon: “How I Feng Shui’d My Small Space But Only Managed to Anger the Cats and Trip Over a Salt Lamp.”
Tags: #SimpliPatti #SimpliLife #DeclutteringWithCats #Minimalism-ish
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