One Less: stack of empty pots

Today we cleaned out the shed.

I've put off cleaning out the shed, partly because it's full of geckos and who knows what else, partly because the stuff in there represents so much time and money invested in me thinking I could be another Peter Cundall or Jackie French.  

Piles of empty pots ready to propagate in.  Bags of fertilisers and bottles of organic pesticides to treat this deficiency or eradicate that pest.  Seeds past their plant-by-date.  Shovels, trowels, rakes, gloves, hose connector doodads.

It all goes with the pile of barely read gardening tomes inside.

So much money spent, so little return.  Rotting.

I thought that I wanted to be a gardener, but it turns out I just like gardens.  All I need is an easy care yard, with the occasional spectacular flower (there are some of these sprung up at the moment that I'd forgotten about), a little vegetable patch, and a fruit tree or two.  I don't actually want to be spending hours potting around the garden: there are too many fantastic books to read, and I have too many children to play with!

The removal of another shopping temptation

Yesterday I found myself in Bunnings because I wanted a nice trellis to grow my beans up.  I didn't need it: I surely could have worked out a cheaper, simpler option, but I wanted obelisk shaped trellises to look pretty.   Bunnings was on my way to where I was going, so it was a good place to shop.  I haven't been to Bunnings for a long time, definitely not since I have taken on minimalism, and probably not in almost a year.   I have been doing so well avoiding temptation buying stuff and yet in Bunnings I felt compelled to buy.  I didn't buy anything I didn't need - I left with only the trellises, and a hose nozzle that I remembered my husband had asked me to get - but it was hard work to do so.

For those outside of Australia and New Zealand, Bunnings Warehouse is a hardware store.  A massive hardware store, with a tagline of 'Lowest prices are just the beginning'.  My local Bunnings is directly under the flight path, about 2km from the runway.  When you see the planes go overhead, they look as though they could probably fit inside the massive shed.  Inside are rows and rows of timber and nails and tools and fertilisers and taps and light fittings and barbeques and outdoor furniture and mosquito repelling candles, and outside are rows and rows of playground equipment and plants and pots and bricks. They advertise as having over 45000 products, and have an awful lot of those on display.  There are plenty of staff running around in red shirts, and if you are lucky enough you might be able to get the attention of one of them, who may or may not belong in the department you need help in.

Most things in Bunnings are cheap, or at least appear so.  Because they are so big they can buy in big quantities and get a better deal.  Bunnings advertise that they will beat any price by 10%, which makes them appear a whole lot cheaper than what they are, but it is a little sneaky.  There is a noticeboard in the doorway which shows pages from other store's catalogues, with items highlighted and the Bunnings price shown as comparison.  Yesterday I noticed a packet of batteries for $3 in the Kmart catalogue with the Bunnings price: $2.97.  But, the vast majority of products are Bunnings' own lines.  They don't say 'Bunnings' on them anywhere, but neither will you find them in any other stores.  These products are comparatively priced to something you might find in another hardware store, or another department store such as Kmart (who are, incidentally, owned by the some company).  So even though they say they will beat any price by 10%, they know full well that the customer aren't going to find a lot of their products elsewhere, anyway. The quality of their own lines of products are ordinary at best.

The truth is that there is so much more in the store than we need.  And by 'we' I mean 'most people who live in Townsville'.  Yesterday I saw braziers and brussels sprouts seeds: it is not cold enough here for either!   (Okay, I'll be honest tonight it is cold enough for a brazier, but it is one of about ten nights of the year.)   Bunnings plays on our desire to have the beautiful gardens we see on Better Homes and Gardens, to renovate our kitchen like on Domestic Blitz, and be our own home handymen like real Aussie blokes.  Bunnings run DIY workshops every weekend then direct you to where to buy all the equipment.  Everything to make your 'castle' more beautiful is there, out on display, tempting you to take it home.

It's not just the things to make our lives more beautiful that are out on display, it's all the practical stuff as well.  Down the main aisles are bins of goods like buckets, extension leads, WD40, lightbulbs, spray bottles.  Oh, that is a good price, and I could always do with another - , I'll get one.  But isn't that how most department stores make their money, lots of people buying lots of little things they don't really need?  The reality is I just don't NEED all the things that they are throwing in my face.  Those extra torches, extra fertiliser, the metal butterfly for my my garden, and the pack of five rolls of masking tape, all just end up in my cupboard doing nothing.

Yesterday was my final trip to Bunnings.  It doesn't matter if they are actually cheaper.  There are other hardware stores on the odd occasion that I actually need one.  Like the True Value up the road from where my husband works.  I've been in there once before, and the man in the store was incredibly helpful. Thinking about it, I'm not sure why I haven't been back.  The lure of lower prices I guess.  There is a local nursery a bit our of my way, but it's not like I need to go there every week.

You're right Bunnings.  Lowest prices ARE just the beginning: the beginning of filling my home with needless clutter.

I don’t want a house

We bought a cheaper, basic house with nothing in the back yard.  We thought we wanted to garden, and that we could save some money on the house itself by doing up the yard ourselves.  I was sure I wanted to be a gardener.  We’ve put in a small shed, a little patio to sit on to watch the kids play, and a garden bed.  And hardly use the back yard.  We also hate general maintenance, so it seems.  We had some minor flooding during the cyclone, because of a problem that probably should have been fixed a long time ago.  Now we really had better fix it.  

But then it dawned on me today: I don’t want to own a house.  

We bought a house because, well, that’s what you do.  Isn’t that what everyone with a family does?  I live in regional Australia, where everyone I know, have ever known, lives in a house with a yard.  If they live in a townhouse or a unit it is just until they can move into a proper house.   Every weekend you have to mow the lawn, and, at least at my house, most of the time we can’t even use the yard because it is so stinking hot.  I’ve been telling my husband for as long as we’ve lived here that I wish we didn’t have so much front yard because we don’t use it for anything but keeping the letterbox on. 

I still want to own a house rather than rent it - our mortgage repayments are far lower than rent, but now I’m wondering whether my family’s lifestyle is more suited to a 3-bedroom unit in a small complex. Somewhere we we can still have people over (which is something we do actually do), and maybe a couple of pots of tomatoes and things on the verandah, and then be able to walk to the park to play cricket or ride bikes.  Maybe a courtyard or a large verandah where the kids can get out and run around and where we can spend all our time outside (hey, I live in the tropics!). 

The funny thing is that I’ve been attracted to that style of housing for so long.  Maybe my subconscious has been trying to tell me something.  I think we probably should have known that we don’t like maintenance, because we aren’t exactly handy people.  I’d much rather read a book, and my husband would much rather kick a football, than prune trees or paint walls.  Really. 

The toughest thing now will be to convince my husband that we should even consider it.