Dumpster Love
Spring cleaning is here. Watch what you throw away. (Muse #63)
Euphoria comes in 10-, 20-, or 40-cubic-yard containers.
Just ask 45-year-old divorced English and etymology teacher Rita Morris, who came to grips with her uncontrollable clutter and decided to do something about it.
She ordered a dumpster. And because Rita really had no idea what a “cubic yard” actually meant, she randomly chose the 40-yard variety, which turned out to be 22 feet long, 8 feet high and weighed five tons.
“Wow, that’s a copious amount of a dumpster,” she recalls thinking at first sight.
At first, Rita tepidly threw a few easy-to-discard things into the bin: a convulsed multi-level cat tower; a lamp with a limp socket; a vintage Jimmy Walker Dyn-o-mite! poster; and so forth.
“It felt great to expunge those items,” she said, “but somehow, I felt like I was tossing a pen into the sea; the dumpster was so substantial, it was lamenting a lack of prodigious junk from which to circumscribe itself.”
So she aimed higher: tossing a wood-carved coffee table she had bought at a tag sale, her ex-husband’s bicycle, and an entire Ikea HEMNES 8-Drawer Dresser, the likes of which had never been properly assembled by anyone, anywhere. And still, it felt like she hadn’t made a dent.
Then she eyed her casket from Costco. Rita had purchased it for no other reason than it was on sale; such is the habit of a hoarder. (Though she did dream of putting her ex-husband in it one day while they were in the throes of their divorce.)
“By the time I actually need one of these, all things death will be digital, anyway,” Rita said in defense of her decision. So, with the help of her “friend,” the FedEx delivery guy, she hoisted the casket into the dumpster where it would lie in peace until it was hauled away.
Or so she believed. Her neighbor, Jimmy Dracone, spied the two in the act of tossing the coffin and promptly called the local authorities, thinking there was a dead body in it. “Hiding their victim in plain sight,” he theorized.
Within minutes, a roar of sirens came screeching around the corner and into the driveway. Now at her door, Rita immediately raised her arms in the air, as a multitude of firearms pointed in her direction.
“Officers, what in perdition is going on?”
“Ma’am, we have reason to believe there may be a dead body in your dumpster,” a sergeant said.
“A dead body! That dumpster’s a garbage repository … not a polyandrium!”
“Ma’am, I don’t know what a polyandrium is, but we’re going to have to investigate.”
Onee of the officers — who had a calm and reserved demeanor about him — then grabbed a ladder, entered the dumpster, found the coffin, and opened it. “Nothing in here but a few dead Barbies, Sarge,” his voice echoed tinnily from inside the steel crypt-like walls.
“Do they appear to have been murdered?”
“Sarge, they’re dolls.”
“Well, Ms. Morris, it appears that you have done nothing wrong.”
“Exculpation! Thank you, Jesus.”
“But, hey, Sarge! There IS something in here of considerable interest,” boomed the public servant turned dumpster diver.
The others looked up, with expressions of grave concern. “What is it, officer?”
“If I’m not mistaken, Sarge, it’s a French Louis XVI hand-carved gilded coffee table representing the height of aristocratic neoclassicism.”
“Say what?” said the Sarge.
“I saw one just like this on Antiques Roadshow. Fetched $10,500 at auction. Has geometric lines and grape carvings at the base of the table, which were popular around 1760, when people were first learning how to be erudite drunkards. It was inspired by Greco-Roman architecture. And these …”
The sergeant cut him off. “Officer, I’m so happy that you have an interest beyond policing, but we really need to move on.”
As she watched the officer exit the dumpster, manipulating the table as he descended the ladder, and with his erudite language still ringing in her ears, Rita fell instantly and madly in love.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry for the disruption … just doin’ our jobs,” said the sergeant.
“Your penitence is appreciated,” Rita replied. “I will now proceed to attempt to sell this antediluvian table and see what it will garner. And to show no ill-will, 50% of the proceeds will be donated to the Police Benevolent Association’s decorating committee.”
“That’s very kind,” the sergeant replied. “Just one more thing: If you’re not going to use that coffin, mind if I take it? My father-in-law’s not doing too well. Might save him some money.”
“Of course,” said Rita, but only half-heartedly, believing that she now had to find other large items to toss into the hungry dumpster. Meanwhile, she asked the officer who identified her prized table for his phone number, which led to a date, and a year later, their marriage, the ceremony of which featured an altar atop a dumpster in honor of how they met.
“Sometimes an object of your devotion ends up in a landfill,” said the wedding priest. “Other times, it leads to love. I’m sure this wonderful couple would endorse taking a dump, any time.”
It was a line he was never able to disavow.
Good Riddance
If you’ve read this far, congratulations and thank you: you’ve chosen not to throw away your precious free time.
To understand why discarding things can feel so good yet often so difficult, you have to start with the appeal of accumulating stuff in the first place.
According to Psychology Today, acquiring new items triggers a small dopamine rush that feels really good. And it often doubles as “retail therapy,” providing a coping mechanism for stress or boredom while also creating a sense of security, control, identity, or status.
For some, this can develop into a hoarding disorder, which is a very serious illness. For most, however, clutter is merely an outcome of excessive coveting. As I’ve often written in this hallowed space, projecting what it will be like to obtain or do something can be a far more powerful emotion than actually owning or experiencing it. It’s a phenomenon my fellow marketers are keenly aware of.
And it’s why objects can quickly become expendable once they’re in-hand.
Some items we hold on to because there are memories attached to them, which we fear will be lost if tossed. But even those are vulnerable to excess, which is where the $650 million dumpster industry comes in. Their vessels all shout, “It’s okay! Throw it away! Move on! Embrace a new sense of order and control.”
With a message like this, in times like these, it’s no wonder rentals are on the rise.
So this Spring, park a dumpster in your driveway or directly beneath your high-rise apartment (note: proceed with caution when discarding larger items out your window) and fill it. Feel the joy of renewal. But also keep an eye out for a treasure that might be hiding in plain sight.
Bonus: 10 tips for Spring cleaning satisfaction
First, of course, rent a dumpster. Then practice different techniques for putting stuff in it. The 1-2-3 Hoist! method … the barely-make-it-to-the-lip of-the-dumpster-and-nudge-it-over-the-edge-method … the hire-someone-to-help-you method, etc.
Begin with an opening ceremony. That first item you dumpster-toss can be the most gratifying. So grab a candle to be your Olympic cauldron, light it (using a BIC Multi-Purpose lighter will do), and with the theme from Chariots of Fire playing on your Bluetooth speaker or phone, take that 10x10 rug your dog has pooped on so many times that tapeworms have built a Holiday Inn on it and give it a full dumpster send off.
Use the “C’mon test.” Trying to decide whether to keep or toss something? Ask yourself: a) C’mon, have I touched the object in the past 3 years?; b) C’mon, have I done something with the object in the past 5 years?; or c) C’mon, have I even thought about that object for the past 10 years? If the answer to any of these is “no,” it’s safe to discard. If “yes,” it’s still safe to discard.
Acknowledge “someday delusion.” Most hoarders justify their actions with “this may come in handy someday.” But take it from Credence Clearwater Revival, who sang: “Someday never comes.”
Hire an arbitrator. Tired of arguing with yourself whether to keep something or throw it away? Hire an arbitrator to help. They can bring impartial advice to your process, and if you don’t like what you hear, you can always throw them into the dumpster instead, and few will notice. (How many people have you ever met that says their line of work is arbitration?)
Digitally declutter as well. Are you one of those people who have a red badge with a number like 6,782 above the email icon on your phone or computer? Studies have proven that “digital disorganization increases cognitive load and causes background stress, making it harder to focus.” So move those emails into your digital dumpster. Saying “bye-bye” as you do will increase the satisfaction.
Get that bird poop off your window. This tip is personal. I’ve been looking at a splat on my bedroom glass for almost three months now, and it’s been driving me crazy. “So why don’t you just remove it?” you may ask. Answer: because I’m a lazy fuck. But Spring has a way of giving a good, sharp kick in the butt.
Familiarize yourself with household molds. General rule of thumb: if it looks like it could camouflauge itself in a bag of Skittles, you’re screwed. [Note: there are no black Skittles, and black mold is among the most lethal.] So this Spring, go on a spores spree and free your house of these harmful buggers.
Wear overalls. You know you want to. Nobody will think twice if they see you in them doing Spring cleaning, so seize the moment.
If you have a dog that sheds a lot, buy a Canine Hair Net. Cleaning up pet hair is a top priority for many Spring cleaning projects, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Hair nets for dogs are widely available and proven effective at minimizing shedding. Canine curlers are also effective, but harder to find.
Have a Spring cleaning tip of your own? Leave it in the comments below.
To all my beloved A Muse Letter subscribers, Happy Spring!
Rita tossing a Costco coffin into a dumpster just made my spring cleaning look like child’s play 😆.
A tip of my own, eh? Let me see.
Keep a ‘maybe pile’ in a box. If you don’t touch it in 30 days, it’s dumpster time. Works for clothes, and questionable kitchen gadgets you thought were important.
Happy Tuesday, Rich.
Good stuff, Rich. A few years ago, we downsized, selling the house we had lived in for 34 years. By the time we started dragging stuff into the third dumpster, I was convinced that arson would've been a better plan.