For some people, like me, minimalism is a downright practical lifestyle choice. I move a lot, I can only afford to rent, and I’ve never had a space of my very own. When I move, I can only rely on myself because I’m single, my mother is disabled, my father is estranged, and my sister lives 2000 miles away. When a person needs to be highly-mobile and intensely self-reliant, stuff without an immediate practical use becomes a liability. Therefore, I live a relatively spartan life. All of my entire life’s belongings and furniture (except my car) fit comfortably into a room that’s less than 150 square feet in size. I don’t have anywhere to put a bunch of random gewgaws, so I’m not tempted to shop for them in the first place. And because I live on a relatively tight budget, money saved is more valuable than the unnecessary stuff it could purchase. It’s also easier (psychologically) to refrain from accumulating unnecessary shit in the first place than it is to battle with throwing it out later. So, by continuously minimizing my possessions, I’m also making life easier for my future self.
Obviously, most people do not live in the dangerous and disgustingly abysmal conditions showcased in squalor-pornography like A&E’s Hoarders. But squalor doesn’t develop overnight, or even over a year. It develops through many years of reluctance to throw away minor, unimportant, irrelevant, totally unused, forgotten items. The problem is not with one particular 3-hole punch, it’s about how the reluctance to throw away something SO unimportant reflects a greater inability to dispatch with the unnecessary. Later in life, it could become a real problem–by which time the hoarder is too set in their ways and potentially too mobility-impaired to fix it.
Honestly, sentimental attachment to inanimate objects is fine–in moderation. If a person has proven they cannot exercise moderation, then they need to cultivate a limiting factor besides the number of cubic feet in their home. Therapy is the optimal solution, but many hoarders are therapy-resistant. So a relative who stops them from buying frivolities or throws out things behind their back may be the only thing keeping them from becoming a squalor-case. Hoarding is expensive (both fiscally and psychologically) and, left unchecked, it can cause public health hazards. Hoarding can also ruin relationships with partners and children, because the person chooses things over people. And when a hoarder dies, their surviving relatives will be faced with the prospect of spending dozens of man-hours or thousands of dollars on the cleanup.
From a utilitarian perspective, there are lots of practical reasons why throwing away the 3-hole punch is good. There are only a couple reasons why keeping it is ok. It doesn’t provide utility and hasn’t for years. It’s taking up space. It’s cheap to replace, on the rare chance it becomes necessary later. It’d be different if it had extrinsic value–is it a collector’s piece? Is it a family heirloom? Is it physically irreplaceable? If not, let it go.
Relevant pithicism: “The things you own… end up owning you.” -Tyler Durden, Fight Club
