Tool Hoarding and Narrative Wargaming

 As I've been cleaning, purging, and reorganizing my newly reclaimed workshop, one of the most daunting tasks is processing all of the tools that I have acquired over the years. 

My dad used to work for Stanley Works in New Britain, CT. One of the last hold-outs when production was all moving overseas. He was there for 20 years or so, and in that time had assembled a very impressive collection of tools. 

Every Christmas and birthday, we were usually given some sort of limited edition, or prototype tool that he had squirreled away from work, until we, in our early 20's had our own huge tool collection to figure out what the hell to do with.

I don't think this story is wildly different than most men across the world. Dad passes his tools down when he gets something better, and then the children are burdened by a lot of heavy, sentimental, and (sometimes) quality tools they need to find something to do with.

So I'm working through all the screwdrivers, the socket sets, the toolboxes of varying qualities, the wrenches big and small and all the other literal nuts and bolts that I've packed up, moved around to different living situations, until it finally ended up crowding my current work space.

We end up torn between two demons. One the sentimental "my dad gave me this, and I love him" mentality, and the equally damning "This is useful and would be a shame to throw out." 

Yet both of these hold us back from really appreciating the tools we have. 

Most of you reading this probably are also wargamers (apologies that my posts are typically just digital diary entries), and as wargamers we are familiar with the heroes we create. The more we use those warlords, the deeper the lore develops. They become increasingly important to us, we think fondly about their come-from-behind victories, and laugh at the time we rolled all ones, and their head was split open. 

The more we use our toys, the more meaning they have to us.

If we spread our time among too many of our heroes, we never give them the time they need to breathe and come to life. We never get a chance to respect and give power to these little inanimate objects.

If I strip these tools down in the same way - I give them a similar power. Having one #2 Philips head screwdriver means that it goes from being just A screwdriver, to being MY screwdriver. When it's time to use it, I'll grab my familiar friend and take him along on another adventure. My screwdriver gets a chance to come alive. His story and my story become one, and one day - if he gets lost, stolen, or broken, then his story gets to end. He isn't trashed as just a broken screwdriver, but gets a pause and a head nod from me, a job well done from a good friend of mine.

I'll end with a great quote from Marie Kondo:

“By handling each sentimental item and deciding what to discard, you process your past. If just stow these things away in a drawer or cardboard box, before you realize it, your past will become a weight that holds you back and keeps you from living in the here and now. To put things in order means to put your past in order.”

Be well friends,

xoxo

Purging

Well, it's finally started. after reading Marie Kondo's book years ago, and getting rid of most of my clothes, I've finally gotten around to chipping away at all the other stuff in my life.

Over the summer my wife suggested we get rid of this old (1970's) couch that had been beat-up and travelled with us from our old apartment, as well as getting rid of an ill-fitting, equally beat-up Ikea entertainment center that I had used metal brackets to hold together. 

This was after the rush of my clothes purge had happened, and I remember thinking - "well I don't know, there's a lot of stuff on that entertainment center, where does it all go?" Thanks to some wifely coercion though, I chopped it up with my father-in-laws sawzall and hauled it off to the dump along with the couch.

I had a pang of regret while heaving these into the dumpster, and it felt that I was contributing to the world's problem of never ending junk piles.

By the time I got home however, Sarah had redone the space, and man - it looked great! everything fit better and felt lighter, and I enjoyed sitting on the sole remaining couch. It gave our baby more room to putt around in and ignited in my a compulsion to continue this reevaluation of possessions.

About a month into this venture, slowly weeding through items, like dipping a toe into a pool and dealing with the shock of the cold as your body tries to adjust, I saw the movie Perfect Days, by Wim Wender. It proved to be another turning point, giving me the drive to just dive into the pool and start really making progress.

If you aren't familiar with Perfect Days, its a beautiful slice-of-life film about a public restroom custodian living one of the most thoughtful and satisfying lives you can imagine. I'm a sucker for routines, cassette tapes, Buddhism, film photography and (now) organization/space so it was about at "terry-pilled" as you can get.

So I just started going for it, being more aggressive, diving in. I was evaluating things more harshly, really ripping the weeds out of the garden. Filling trashcans and taking dump runs once or twice a week to throw things out. Sarah and I have stopped buying things (thankfully) since having our child and going down to one income, so that helped maintain the outward flow of garbage.

The biggest thing I've learned - it's easy to accumulate a LOT of junk. It never seems like junk when you get it, it all has a purpose. A side-of-the-road bookcase to organize the boardgames you haven't ever touched, or a beat-up table to go onto the deck you never use. It all feels organized, until you start to look at it with decluttering eyes. 

So the purge takes forever. Going through each item. When was the last time you played Risk? oh, never. Throw it out. This drywall drill that I used once about ten years ago that came from goodwill for 14.99? back to goodwill. All these things taking up space. Space I could use to do things that I love. Space that I could use to fix things that had broken, that I would love to have again. 

When it's all filled with packed bookcases and plastic drawer units, you become accustomed to using the same small areas of space, inside big areas of unusable space.

I should say that I wasn't a hoarder - but eventually the walls feel like they are closing in. and once you get rid of your first side of the road shelving unit, and realize that each piece of furniture you get rid of is like putting a small addition onto your house. You get excited - and then overwhelmed by how much further you have to go.

Anyway, best way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time.

As corny as it is, I think about that Fight Club quote "The things you own end up owning you." 

It never had so much meaning until now.