I tried Freecycle when I was moving and found it deeply annoying. Either I got no response at all, or people responded with silly questions (re: a round carpeted cat nest/thingy - "How do you clean it?") or they responded and then did not actually bother to come get the stuff. At that point it is less hassle to keep a "junk box" for a few moves.

I try really hard to prevent new stuff coming in. Clothes and linens can come and go - I know they will be bought at Goodwill. But the kids, and their toys, and their school papers, and their little plastic things they find on the playground, and argh.

I'm terrible at getting rid of things. It helped when I moved. I threw out a bunch of stuff that just, no one would want. And I finally got rid of all the video tapes I had and had been holding on to. I realized -- I don't have a vcr! So I took them all to good will, except the ones Mom wanted to take to her school.

The big item that was agonized over was the sleeper sofa that I didn't want and no one wanted but was still good. It went to the side of the road and 2 days later was gone.

Hubby hates the idea of Freecycle, because he sees it as strangers profiting from his effort/money. No, he's not much with the idea of global community. He will bust his butt for our friends, but strangers? Not so much.

There's also the problem that I think a lot of people around her scan Freecycle and Craigslist for stuff to put out on their summer-long yard sale. They don't want the stuff themselves, but they want to sell it. The primary thrift store is the one run by the Mormon Church, which I don't want to support, plus by the time we want to get rid of something, there's not a lot of inherent value left to it. So it will just end up in the thrift store's garbage.

Hubby's emotional attachment comes from his memory problems. He keeps a lot of stuff from his past, and he needs the item to trigger the memories. He just told me last night about how he spent the summer of his 15th year working on a tall ship going from Hawaii to Tahiti and back and how he spent the week lay-over in Tahiti learning how to scuba.

His gaming stuff, now, that could get culled . . .

There's a guy around here who will come and get your stuff, as long as you have a few good things he'll take everything you have, keep the good stuff to sell, and haul the trash to the dump. Which can be very handy. Especially if there is stuff that's not salvagable.

Of course someone has to be willing to part with the stuff.

it's better for hoarders to have a proscribed space that's theirs, to muck up as they wish, as long as it doesn't spill into the rest of the house.

Right. That need is a need for a reason. Trying to tear stuff away from someone with an actual problem can be more destructive than imaginable. Having a safe place is the very best intermediary solution.

I just want that place to not be the spare bedroom (and he totally agrees). It needs to be an "office"/dressing room for "Ava." (Seriously, he has WAY more women's clothes than men's clothes -- him having 2 wardrobes [do not EVEN ask how many pairs of heels he has (while I have literally 3 pairs, IIRC)] contributes to a lot of clutter!)

And he wants it to not be the spare bedroom, either -- he's okay with moving his stuff to the basement, but it's hard to mobilize that way. Because he has goddamn office furniture in there that he brought home from his work literally 2 weeks before I moved in, "because they were just going to throw it away! I'll use it!" Never mind the fact that I was about to move an apartment's worth of my stuff in, and there was already no room.

That office furniture? Stands unused after 15 months, and it's shoved back in a corner such that we can't even get to it to put it on the curb. THAT behavior makes me want to pull out my hair and keen.

I try really hard to prevent new stuff coming in.

I try really hard to stick to a "one comes in, one goes out" philosophy, at least regarding clothes (no way in HELL that would work with books or comics -- although I really DO need to cull my comics way down). But I can only do that for me. I will NOT become That Girlfriend who, every time The Boy brings home clothes from the thrift store (which is twice a month, more or less), asks, "So, what are you getting rid of in its place?" That's not my role. But considering all the goddamn shoes he's bought in the past 6 months, I haven't seen a single pair go out the door.

(Wow, I feel like a guy.)

I put a tv stand up on Freecycle and last night someone said they'd be by for it by 2 pm today. It's now 3:44. The tv stand is still in my living room. Le sigh.

I finally brought a coffee table I had down to the consignment store on the corner. I've been following its progress. It started out at $160, and now it's marked down to $110.

...I would kill your boyfriend, Teppy. Seriously, OMG, WTFBBQ. Could not deal.

Of course, I am also currently not speaking to my girl (since about 11:30 last night). Though I did respond to her barrage of texts, calls, and a couple IMs, with a few texts ranging from "Go to hell" to the slightly more subdued "I am not responding right now because I am mad, and will not have anything productive to say. I will speak to you sometime later". I am mostly not furious anymore, and am instead just disgusted and annoyed and OVER IT. Sigh.

I tend to keep what *I* think of as a lot of random junk, in case it might be useful someday (random ribbons, glue, sticky stuff)...but then, it's all in nice boxes and stuff, and actually has been useful. And is probably only clutter to people who keep their houses zen-like.

I'm a bit of a pack rat, but fortunately the stress and general fed-upness of moving overpowers my hoardng tendencies. My art and photographs never get thrown away, and I'm reluctant to cull books down in any significant manner. But pretty much everything else that's not expensive furniture is subject to a "Fuck it! I can live without it at the new place!" reaction once I've spent enough hours putting stuff in boxes. The trash dumpster at my last apartment looked like a tornado had touched down the weekend I left.

...I would kill your boyfriend, Teppy. Seriously, OMG, WTFBBQ. Could not deal.

I try to not even look at the spare bedroom (which is not easy in a 900-square-foot house, but I have amazing powers of denial).

The trash dumpster at my last apartment looked like a tornado had touched down the weekend I left.

Ha! When I moved (after 7 years at my apt. complex), the trash dumpsters were COMICAL. Plus there was an unspoken tradition of putting usable items that you were willing to give away -- no broken crap -- in the building's laundry room. I put a tiny TV, old but working microwave, TV cart, many large planters, and some other stuff down there. I should have put more down there.

Urg. I need to continue proofreading and get off the computer for a while. Stupid need to earn a paycheck!