Our house is full of stuff that is too disorganized to really use. Contemplating how to get it in order, I found myself remembering a framework I learned many years ago, when I first lived on my own outside of school.
I had just moved to a neighborhood in Washington, DC that still warms my heart, though I have long moved away. The streets are lined with trees, and I felt at peace walking the sidewalks. When I returned to my apartment after work, I could do whatever I wanted, and I soon settled into a soothing evening routine of dinner, SimCity 2000, Doctor Who, and bed.
While I was more alone than I'd ever been, I also felt safer than I ever had. My choices were entirely mine, and I wanted to feel the resulting safety as completely as I could. The only threat to that feeling was my student loans and some credit card debt. Access to money is critical to feel safe in our society. I decided I wanted to pay the debt off, as quickly as I could, even if it meant spending very little money on anything other than rent and loan payments.
Searching through debt payment advice online, I found a framework that helped me figure out how to go about it. The choice came down to making a debt avalanche or a debt snowball.
To make a debt avalanche, you focus on paying off the debts that are growing fastest. Some consider avalanches to be the "right" way to do it, because for most people's finances, prioritizing paying the highest interest debt saves the most money.
To make a debt snowball, on the other hand, you focus on paying off the smallest debts first. Instead of trying to save the most money, snowballs aim to be the most psychologically rewarding, and therefore, the most sustainable.
The many, early small accomplishments of debt snowballs give us momentum when we don't have it; avalanches get things done when our motivation is already strong. A debt avalanche may save the most money, but a debt snowball gets the job done.
With our house, I'd been aspiring to what I now see as a tidying up avalanche. I had begun the now (in)famous KonMari technique, where you go through possessions category by category, choosing what to keep rather than choosing what to discard. Starting the process taught me a lot about my relationship to stuff—(I've processed clothes and am nearly finished with books)—but continuing the process takes a kind of single-minded focus that I have had a hard time prioritizing.
So now I'm doing what I think of as a tidying up snowball: I'm taking on little projects when I feel inspired, and feeling proud of each small moment. Sometimes it's as simple as selecting a few items from a dump zone to put away, and other times it's going through the spice drawer and composting all the duplicate, old spices so I can actually find the ones I seek.
I want to live in a home that's easy to keep organized, and that feels as safe as that solo apartment from years ago. Between the skills I've learned from KonMari and the sustainability of this tidying up snowball, I feel hopeful that I really will achieve my goal.
Although my debt payments and my stuff sorting are the first and most recent projects I've figured out by thinking about snowballs and avalanches, they aren't the only. These imperfect snow-moving metaphors often come to mind whenever a project feels stuck. I’d love to always approach projects with the most efficient process. Sometimes, however, the efficient process we imagine simply isn't effective. It's not about doing something the right way; it's about doing it the way we can.
Mentioned in this issue: KonMari Method (I like the graphic novel version of her book, The Life-Changing Manga of Tidying Up); and debt avalanche and debt snowball, explained by CFPB in “How to reduce your debt,” though they say “highest interest rate method” instead of “avalanche.”