Stuff It

The way things are going in the world today, it’s a wonder it hasn’t come to a great big, loud, noisy end. You can’t open a newspaper these days without reading about some apocalyptic bad news. If it’s not the American President threatening a nuclear war, it’s a super bug resists every form of antibiotics. Or a super virus that’s infected every computer out there. Or news that that Kim Cattrall really, really hates Sarah Jessica Parker. I mean, what’s next? A TV spin-off for ‘Shahs of Sunset’? Wait, I love ‘Shahs of Sunset’, so that would be good news.

            The other day, my friend Teck was moaning about how he was running out of room in his flat. “Oh my God, I’ve so much stuff. The drawers are packed to the brim. I literally could not fit one more thing in without the whole cupboard splitting apart!”

            Have you tried Marie Kondo-ing your stuff, I asked.

            “You mean, hold each item in my hand and ask ‘Does this spark joy?’? Yes, of course, lah! That’s why I bought them in the first place! All my Dries trousers. My Moleskine notebooks. My Marc Jacobs belts. I love every one of them! But let me tell you, all that joy is giving me heartburn! I feel so overwhelmed. I don’t even dare open my cupboards in case everything falls out! It’s an absolute disaster!”

             When I reported Teck’s predicament to Saffy, she said it just amazed her what some people consider a problem, never mind a disaster.

            “I mean, clearly, he’s got too much stuff! He just needs to get rid of it all! I know, he should hire me!” Saffy’s bosom inflated at the prospect of a second career. “I would make such a good personal space organiser!”

            “But your room is such a mess!” I pointed out.

            “Yes, but that’s only because my room is so small, and so I have to cram everything into that little space. Now, if I had a room twice the size, say, it would all be a lot neater!”

            I said I was sure the whole point of editing was to cut down on possessions, and not to expand to fill a bigger space, to which Saffy sniffed that I clearly had no experience in the matter and, with that damning verdict, flounced out of the room.

               Later that week, at Molly Malone’s, Amanda bumped into her old law school friend Miriam who’d recently relocated to Singapore with her hot German husband, Max.

            “Miriam and Max!” she gushed over a gin and tonic. “How adorable is that?”

            It turned out that this is the sixth city that Max has moved to in the last seven years. “That must be exhausting!” Amanda said. “All that packing and unpacking!”

            “Well, ya, it could be,” Max said, “but I don’t have much to pack, so it’s not too bad.”

            “He only ever owns a hundred things at any given time,” Miriam said, “so everything more or less fits into two boxes.”

            Amanda paused in mid-sip. “Wait. What? What do you mean?”

            “He only owns a hundred things.”

            Amanda frowned. “Like…What? How?”

            “Like two pairs of underwear. Three shirts. Two suits. Two ties. A pair of sneakers. One watch. Two dress shoes. Two sets of bedsheets. Two towels. Use one, wash the other.”

            “What about books?”

            “Public library. And the iPad Pro and iCloud storage which also holds all the music and photos and which doubles as the laptop. So, that’s one item.”

            “Furniture?”

            “Ikea in each city!” Max replied. “Garage sale when I move. It makes my life very simple. I’m not burdened with stuff.”

            When Saffy heard about Max, she was astonished. “Really? Just a hundred? How is that possible?”

            “He says you can only wear one tee-shirt at a time, so why have ten?” Amanda said in a tone that managed to convey the message that if Max wasn’t such a hottie, she’d report him to the police for being a public nuisance.

            Saffy’s bosom trembled. “Well, that’s true, but still…”

            “Oh, and apparently, when he and Miriam went to Spain for two weeks, he just brought along a single backpack!”

“Shut up!” Saffy urged.

“You know,” Amanda mused, “you always read about people like that, but to actually meet one in real life is so surreal.”

“Marie Kondo has nothing on this Max, lemme tell ya!”

“Did I mention too that he’s super-hot?” Amanda said. “If you held him in your hand, he’d definitely spark joy!”

“And Lord knows my joy needs sparking!” Saffy sighed.