Gimme Three Steps: How To Cut The Clutter And Live To Tell About It
“I was a cutting the rug, down at a place called The Jug …”
This is one of my favorite rock and roll lyrics of all time.
It’s from “Gimme Three Steps” by Lynyrd Skynyrd.
I grew up in Oklahoma, and they were quite popular there with my friends. I grew to like them and probably like them even more now.
How many places like “The Jug” have I been to in my life?
Probably one too many.
By that I mean, not all distractions come in the form of digital distractions.
But today I want to get you thinking about how to get rid of all the crap, er, I mean the stuff in your life that is literally choking you.
It’s got you in a stranglehold.
It’s got me in one, too. I am back at this step myself.
Today, for example, I awoke with the intention of doing two things only:
Write draft blog articles until I hit 6 drafts (5 will be a win, though).
Get as many steps in as I can in between drafts.
I am on draft two now, and I’ve racked up 5,188 steps.
Not too shabby.
However, I had a few text messages I wanted to respond to as well. All good. They take time.
And I read a little. Nothing wrong with that either.
I’ve made some coffee. Delicious.
A few stops at the bathroom. Relief.
And I was saying to myself, “Oh, you also want to rehearse the songs you want to play at the open mic.”
Yes, that is true.
But is it priority #1 or #2 listed above?
Well, it can help with getting steps in if I stand and play while I move and groove.
Okay, that works.
What about the items you have wanted to order online for the last two weeks or more?
Surely you can squeeze that in, right?
Eh, no. That’s a big negatory.
As much as it pains me, I need to wait until tomorrow or after I finish 6 drafts.
This is Zeroscaping in action.
Ordering those items would be unnecessary friction, pulling me away from my true intentions for today.
When I first developed the idea of Zeroscaping, I was originally thinking “where do I want to live” and “where would I thrive” as I crafted the strategy.
Just this morning, I was listening to a podcast—one I think is helping me do research and learn, not just a digital distraction—and a woman was being interviewed.
She said she had lived in the PNW for 12 years, and now she lives in Northern New Mexico.
She said she had gotten too “moist” in the PNW and needed to listen to her body and dry out.
Exactly.
That was the sort of thing I had in mind with the idea of “environment” in my original “formula” of the good life I discussed in yesterday’s article.
Later, I came across this guy’s story about how his wife and he sold everything they owned and moved into an RV. They also had a baby with them.
His name is Adam Baker.
He evidently had a blog called Man vs. Debt, which he sold in 2012.
Cha-ching!
It’s just an archive now.
Sometimes it’s knowing when to sell versus Hold.
Anyway, they set a rule: Each person was allowed 100 items. I took that to me 300 total.
That really got my wheels rolling.
I soon took these three steps and have never regretted it:
I did an inventory of every single item I owned (and got rid of junk at the same time). It was almost 3,000 items.
I decided to get it down to 1,000 items.
I spent 15 minutes per day over a six-month period eliminating stuff that was no longer needed or served me.
I believe I got to 1,500 items the first pass through.
So, I repeated Step 3.
By 2012, I had less than 1,000 items.
In 2015 or so, I came across Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.
That inspired me to see if I could take it down to 500 items.
I basically followed the same Step 3, but asked if an item brought me joy or not.
That helped, but it was confusing.
I had to learn that just because something was truly “useful” did not mean it brought me joy.
That is a neutral item.
I think it is Best to replace or remove as many of these as you can.
When I got down to about 650 items, I gave up. It felt like I was getting too lean.
Unfortunately, I’ve backslid since then.
And I still have way too many items that are useful but do not necessarily bring me joy.
I am grateful for them, but that is not joy the way I understand it.
I do get joy from not spending money on replacing them, though.
Ha!
But, come on, man. Get going on this again, I say to myself.
It’s time to lift your game.
Look, you will hear lots of people who talk about minimalism and whether or not counting your items is helpful or necessary.
Most I’ve come across say don’t do it.
I say do it.
But it’s not a competition to see who can have the least amount of items.
It’s about the lifestyle you want to live.
Moving into your RV, van, or boat?
Adam Baker’s 100-item rule is probably a good one.
Want a “dorm simple” lifestyle like I have in my test apartment?
I think my 250-item maximum is a great idea.
When it’s time for me to go, I will have very little trouble moving out.
Quickly.
I’m already three steps toward the door.