Learning to live with fewer objects
And why useful things don’t always belong in your home
There is a repeating pattern in my life where every few years, I put my things in storage and travel. I only carry enough items to fit a backpack and sometimes a small suitcase. I immediately feel light and free. I tell myself that the next time I settle, I will live a minimalistic life.
And yet, as soon as I have a home, I begin wanting to own things, one after the other: surround speakers, an ice cream maker and an action camera are my latest desires.
Over the years, I’ve learned that I’m happier when I own fewer things. But how do you actually own fewer things?
An important distinction
When I write about wanting fewer things, I’m assuming your basics are covered. If you don’t have a stove, you should buy one. This also applies to tools that make your daily life easier. My focus is on the layer beyond that: the things that don’t solve a real problem but still demand your money, time, and attention.
Why we want things
When you want an object, you’re really wanting the future state it seems to unlock:
“I will feel more organised.”
“I’m finally going to get jacked.”
“I will look cool.”
These may all be true. What you are not thinking about is the boring middle: the storage, setup, maintenance. Not to mention that most things lose their appeal very quickly, as we get used to them.
So how to want fewer things?
Over time, I’ve noticed a few patterns that help me slow this down, along with some practical tools.
1) “Useful” does not mean “necessary”
A pizza cutter you use occasionally, a waffle maker you use twice a year, or a cloth steamer you use when you don’t feel like ironing. Some objects can be useful without needing to be yours.
This is especially true for objects that are used occasionally, do one specific job, and don’t really change your life if you don’t own them. The usefulness happens once in a while. Ownership happens every day. This is where the cost of ownership shows up.
2) The energy of having things
Having stuff means you have to manage it. A car needs its oil and tires changed. A big house needs to be tidied and fixed. A new phone makes you worry about dropping it or getting it stolen. Even cheap things take time. They all want something from you.
Every item you own takes up a small “tab” in your brain. It sits in the background, waiting for attention. Owning fewer things is about closing those tabs so you can have more peace.
3) Who this is really for
A few years ago, I bought a projector for my living room. I told myself it was for “the cinematic experience.” It wasn’t cheap, and setting it up was a hassle. It was only much later that I realized why I actually bought it: I wanted to be the guy who has a cool apartment where people gather to watch movies. I wanted the compliment more than the movies.
We often buy things not for what they do, but for what we think they say about us. We buy the expensive notebook because we want to feel like a serious thinker. Or the professional chef’s knife because we want to feel like the kind of person who hosts sophisticated dinner parties.
If you aren’t sure if you’re buying for use or for identity, ask yourself these three questions:
“If I knew for a fact that no one would ever see me use this, and I could never tell anyone I owned it, would I still spend the money?”
“Am I already doing the work?” If you aren’t running now, €200 running shoes won’t change that. They’ll just sit in the closet.
“Is this for a life I actually live, or a life I’m imagining?” For example, buying a heavy-duty camping stove when you haven’t slept in a tent in three years. You’re buying for the “imaginary” adventurous man, not the “real” you who stays in hotels.
In those cases, the object is doing a different job than it claims.
4) Desire is a passing state
Most people treat wanting something as a signal that they should act on it. But desire is a sensation, not a command.
Acting on it trains the brain to generate more wants, because it learns that every urge gets rewarded. And when you want something, your brain justifies it. It’s one of its jobs. It whispers: “look at how good the deal is, it’s going to make your life better, people will look at you and say wow!” and “are you dumb enough to pass on this deal?”
Once something feels justified, wanting it feels almost neutral, even responsible.
But if you let it pass without acting on it, it usually does. I have a “7-day cooling period” rule for myself where I wait a week before I decide to buy it. And often enough, I don’t want anymore.
See it like this: Desire creates urgency, urgency creates reasons, waiting removes both.
These lenses help make sense of the wanting. It only changes when they’re backed by small actions, repeated often enough to become habits.
Putting it into practice:
1) Start with a basic version
If you really want something, start with a cheaper or second-hand version. Treat it as a trial. This shows you quickly whether you actually use the thing, or whether you just liked the idea of having it. A basic version also removes some of the weight from the decision. You don’t have to defend the purchase or feel committed to it.
Only think about upgrading if you keep using it and start running into real limits. If the basic version does the job, there’s nothing to change. And if it breaks or clearly falls short, upgrading becomes a logical decision instead of an emotional one.
2) Let it sit
Instead of buying something the moment it feels urgent, delay it on purpose. Put a reminder in your calendar for a week or two later.
When you do, write down the item or link, the price, and how badly you want it right now on a scale of 1-10. When the reminder comes up, look at it again and notice how you feel. If a desire that felt like a 7 has dropped to a 4, it will probably keep dropping. That’s usually a sign it wasn’t a great purchase to begin with.
You can use this even after buying something. Note how you feel at the time, then check back a month later. You can’t undo the purchase, but you start to learn how your wanting actually behaves.
3) One in, one out
Only buy something new if you remove something you already own. Sell it, donate it, or throw it away. This works best for categories where items pile up easily, like clothes, shoes, kitchen gadgets, books, etc.
The point is to force a real trade-off. When you know you’ll have to give something up to bring something in, the purchase stops feeling like “just one more thing.” You think more carefully about whether you truly want it, and whether it’s worth the space and attention it will take.
You have to find the line for yourself. You can justify a place for almost anything if you try hard enough, and you can also talk yourself out of things that would genuinely help.
What matters is noticing which category something falls into once the initial excitement fades. If it helps you do your work or run your home, it earns its place. If it mostly lives in your head, it doesn’t.
The goal is to match what you own to the life you’re actually living right now.