Americans are gluttonous voyeurs: We prefer to witness excess, either in sex, violence, Kardashian-level celebrity drama or just plain clutter. So I don't kid myself to think A&E or any other network will soon announce a new reality series to balance out the network's popular show "Hoarders" that features people who live spare, minimalist lifestyles.
I am one. I live in a 700-square-foot condo in downtown Washington, DC. Divorced and childless, it's plenty of space for me. In fact, I have extra room in my closets, drawers, cabinets and cupboards for more stuff, were I inclined to start compiling and aggregating.
But that's the point: I don't want more stuff. I'm no Zen Buddhist, I don't practice Feng Shui, I have no plans to uproot and join the small house movement, nor do I suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder. I wasn't forced to scale down to a smaller residence because of a mortgage default, nor did I hawk all my possessions in service to a meth habit. It's just that in life, like at the airport, I like to travel light. One carry-on is fine by me, thankyouverymuch.
I realize that, for some, spare living is less a life choice than a psychological burden. I have a close friend who struggles with compulsive behaviors, including the constant need not only to straighten things but also to purge her home of the unnecessary. A firstborn child like me -- I'm convinced birth order has something to do with this -- as a young girl she apparently cleaned her room, every day after school, from one end to the other.
That image of her amused me until a few years ago, when my parents happened to mention that when I was 6 or 7, they were dismayed to discover me maniacally straightening the toys on my shelves. They made a big show of messing things up and telling me that some disorder was OK.