Living with no more stuff

A few days later, Charlotte and I pop into a big-box grocery store to buy organic milk. She wants to look at the clothes. I respond that she doesn't need any and point to the "new" (hand-mec-down) outfit that she's wearing. "Yes, but," she says, eyeing me warily, "what store did it come from?" I come clean that it was the outfit her sister wore on her first day of kindergarten. She seems OK with this, but suggests we just look at the clothes "for when it's our turn to buy things again." I then create a distraction and get out of the store.

Charlotte, who is clearly experiencing consumer withdrawal, asks if she can have her own credit card. I suggest she might want to get a job first. My comment is met with stony silence.

The next day, Sophie and Spencer both arrive home with new Scholastic book catalogues from school. They look at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrows. Surprisingly, no words needed.

Just when things appear to be going well, I turn on my computer one morning but the screen remains black, and I feel panic gnawing in my gut. As a freelancer, my computer is my lifeline. So I load it into my car and drive to my computer repair guy, who assures me that all he needs to do is order a part – "It'll only take a few days to come in." I wonder what I'll do without work to keep me occupied for a few days. I can't go shopping. Instead, I garden and feel almost disappointed when I hear that the necessary part has arrived.

Unfortunately, my computer still won't work – and I can't buy a new one, not this month. My husband (whose initial resistance to our consumer detox has morphed into steely determination) borrows a cable from our computer repair guy and rigs an old television screen to my computer. Voilà! I'm back at work.

Week three
Determined to rid ourselves of past purchases we no longer use, we have a garage sale. While Spencer and Charlotte suddenly remember how much they "love" long-forgotten toys, we agree to get rid of anything that hasn't been played with in a year. We sell many things our children have outgrown, as well as some leftover building supplies. And we're $300 richer.

I have a speaking engagement in Ottawa, so we decide to make the weekend a family getaway. Anticipating a five-hour car trip with three kids in the backseat, I cave and take them to my favourite secondhand bookstore so they can pick out some entertainment. Buying secondhand is OK, I reason, because new goods won't be produced in order to replace the ones I'm buying. I'm almost out of the store when I spot a book called Not Buying It: My Year Without Shopping. I add it to my pile – the irony does not escape me.

Page 3 of 4 - Read page four to find out what happened when the month was over