Minimalism Meets Pandemic Pandemonium

Hubby and I picked a bad time to practice living with less, having sold our home of almost 2,800 square feet two years ago, downsizing to an apartment of approximately 750 square feet.

This temporary living arrangement, while fun when things are “normal”, could not have collided with a worse time in our history. The entire concept of downsizing – minimalism – pretty much dictates no stockpiling. In fact, it mandates tough decisions be made when it comes to keeping anything that we previously thought had value.

In order to make this work, we Marie-Kondo’d ourselves silly, selling or donating most of our furniture as well as mass quantities of other stuff. We had 3 strict rules:

1. The item had to be so meaningful that we knew it would have a place in the new, smaller house we are building
2. It would have a place in the tiny apartment OR we were willing to pay to store it
3. We valued it enough to pay to move it – twice

Very few items made the cut.

Honestly, we’ve enjoyed the small apartment with minimal belongings. Having only one toilet has some serious drawbacks but we’ve managed.

Then came March 13th. Forced Social Distancing.

The first time we realized our minimalist lifestyle just might not mix with a pandemic. It was our “wheels off the bus” moment, or “Minimalism Meets Pandemic Pandemonium.”

That understanding of Hubby’s first “forced” work day from home, when his office was no longer accessible even if he begged to enter.

His innovative solution? Create a desk out of TV trays a mere 6’ from my desk.

Let’s just say the non-stop conference calls and interactive Zoom meetings were a lot for this creative writer who’s used to working at home. Alone.

If we were a Donny and Marie song it would be, “He’s a little bit noisy, I’m a little bit shut the F^%$ up”

Noise-cancelling headphones? Why would I have those? I’m usually the only one here.

Supplies on hand, like groceries? Have you seen an apartment-sized refrigerator? I’m positive ours could fit inside almost any home-sized refrigerator. That means we shop frequently, with a tape measure, carefully considering how much we can fit inside the “ice box.”

Imagine my shocked expression in the grocery store when I saw empty shelves for the first time. No meat, peanut butter or sliced bread. As I wandered the aisles racking my brain to think of recipes calling for beef, peanut butter and sliced bread, it occurred to me “This is why people need toilet paper!” That concoction would have me in the bathroom too.

Cleaning products? Puhlease. Why would I stock up for an apartment that takes me less than an hour to clean, even at its worst? Besides, where would I store that stuff? We are rationing the one canister of bleach wipes and using our right brains for creative cleaning solutions.  Honestly, the counters have never smelled so fruity and been so well-conditioned, as shampoo is soap, amiright?

One thing we do have stock of is toilet paper and paper towels. That’s because we are too lazy to remember to purchase these items on a regular basis and of course we don’t want to run out. Bulk-buying habit left-over from the house.

Take that, minimalism!

Face masks, which by themselves have nothing to do with minimalism, except now they are sold out everywhere and we are supposed to make them ourselves from items “found around the house”. I’m not one to prepare for a Zombie apocalypse and we hire painters so face masks are just not something we have on-hand.

But making them? The internet tells me it’s easy to make a face mask with hair ties or rubber bands and a scarf. Ha! My hair has been above-my-ears short since college and rubber bands were deemed “non-essential” when we moved. See the 3 rules mentioned earlier.

At one point we had real “Survivor” Buffs, the kind worn on the show. Of course, we can’t find them now and fear they may have been Marie-Kondo’d along with rest of our stuff.

Minimalism, I tell ya.

This pandemic is in direct conflict with our attempt at a minimalist lifestyle. We were doing so well at living with less, having weaned ourselves from senseless saving of items that just take up space. Now it seems like all of those hair ties from high school I finally threw in the garbage are haunting me. And I’m having flashbacks to those weeks when we cleaned out Every. Single. Drawer. and Cabinet, wondering if we tossed something that could be essential today.

What about the prom dress that I finally tossed, despite my joy at being able to still zip it up? Could that have been useful somehow?

Could we have MacGyvered Hubby’s fave cappuccino maker, the one with an inch of dust from sitting at the top of the pantry?

The big question: Is this the end of minimalism for us? Will we revert back to closets full of non-essential items “just in case we need them”, all because of this pandemic experience?

I certainly hope not.

The one thing that is certain: we will have separate offices.