I was visiting a friend the other day...one of those casual pop-ins where you end up leaning
on the kitchen counter talking about life, schedules, and what everyone’s making for dinner.
And right there on her counter sat an iPhone box.
You know the one. Clean,
sturdy, perfectly fitted. The kind of box that makes you think, Ohhh, she just treated herself.
So I asked, “How do you like your new iPhone?”
She laughed and said, “I didn't
buy one. That’s the box from the old iPhone I bought five years ago.”
Five years.
Then she shrugged like it was the most reasonable thing in the world and said, “It’s a good
box.”
I didn’t say much in the moment, because honestly, I get it. Some boxes really are good. They stack nicely. They’re strong. They look tidy. They feel…useful. Like they’re waiting for their big moment.
And then it hit me: Good box thinking isn’t about the box. It’s about the story we attach to it.
A “good box” promises you a version of the future where you’re prepared.
You might need it for shipping something.
It could be perfect for storing photos.
It would be great for organizing
cords.
What if someone needs a box like this?
I’ll use it when I get more organized.
And the funny thing is, none of those thoughts are ridiculous. They’re practical. They’re optimistic. They sound responsible.
But here’s the catch: the box is taking up space today for a job it might never do tomorrow.
One iPhone box on the counter doesn’t look like clutter. It looks like nothing.
But “good boxes” are sneaky. They multiply in the background because they’re tidy-looking clutter. They don’t scream for
attention. They sit politely. They don’t look messy.
Until you open a closet and realize you’re storing:
boxes for appliances you no longer own
packaging for gadgets you already replaced
containers from “someday organizing projects”
bags you’re “definitely going to reuse”
And suddenly you’re not storing boxes.
You’re storing
possibilities.
So here’s a simple rule I love: Keep only what you would reasonably use within the next year.
Not in a fantasy life. Not in a “one day I’ll sell things online”
life. Not in a “I might move someday” life.
In your real life.
And if you’re thinking, But what if I need a box…you can give yourself a little safety net.
If you love a good box (and I respect that), create a small, contained home for them.
Choose one bin or one shelf.
Put your “best of the best” boxes there.
When the space is full, you can only keep a new one if one leaves.
That way, you still get to be the kind
of person who has a great box on hand, without becoming the keeper of cardboard memories.
Sometimes we keep a box because it feels useful.
But sometimes we keep a box because it feels like we’re staying ready for life.
And I get that. Life is unpredictable. Holding onto “useful things” feels comforting.
But comfort can quietly turn into clutter when it starts costing you space, calm, and breathing room.
Because in the end, the goal isn’t to own the best box. It’s to make your home feel easy to live in.
So if you spot a “good box” sitting around your house today, try asking the question:
“What job is this doing for me right now?”
If the answer is none, you have full permission to bid it farewell...and then enjoy the tiniest little victory of reclaimed space.
On another note...
High-end beauty can be expensive, so I created this list
of affordable beauty products that give you the same luxurious results for a lot less!
