Why You Should Pretend To Be A Home Blogger

The title is weird, I know. But hear me out. I have a strange philosophy for making decisions about my home: pretend you're sharing your reasoning with thousands of people. Not in fear of their judgment, but to solidify your own intentions.

This idea came to me when I was filming the video of the inside of my kitchen cabinets. I did a practice run and my narration went as follows: “In this cabinet I have the loaf pans because….uhm…I don’t know why. Actually, these pans should be with the other baking stuff. Yeah, these don’t belong here, let me move those.”

And then I moved them. I put the loaf pans with the baking pans instead of with the baking accessories. I'm sure I wouldn't have moved them if I wasn't narrating my reasoning out loud. I would have just continued storing them where they'd always been.

Having to look at something and really think — why is it there, why do I own it, how would I explain it — gives you a second to examine the motivation and maybe shift gears, or maybe feel more confident in whatever you're doing. I'm not talking about big decisions. I'm talking about deciding how many spatulas we need, or why the tape measure lives in the garage, or why the den is still painted that color. The little things that quietly shape how we live that we tend to let fall into habits.

Whenever I post a 45-second video on Instagram, I get dozens of messages with follow-up questions about the why behind what I'm doing. Sometimes I have a good answer. Sometimes I don't — and that sticks with me more than the ones I do have.

To be clear: the point isn't to involve anyone else's opinion. I'm not changing my mind because of what the internet thinks. But if I can't explain why I did something, even just to myself, I probably didn't think it through. It's less about presenting myself to an audience and more about using the imaginary audience to fact-check my own decisions.

Some of the questions I've gotten are small: "why didn't you paint the picture rail the same color as the trim?" "why don't you hang your pants?" That last one actually has me reconsidering. Maybe I'll try hanging them.

I realize that needing a reason for everything is very type-A and INTJ of me. But I find something useful in doing a personal check on my motivations before I tell anyone about them.

This also extends beyond where I store my garlic press. When I'm making a purchase that bumps up against my values — buying new instead of secondhand, or from a brand I have questions about — the imaginary audience is a useful gut check. Not because I owe anyone a justification, but because if I'd feel uncomfortable explaining a choice out loud, that discomfort is probably telling me something. If I want to buy something and not tell anyone about it because I feel guilt or shame, it's probably not the right choice for me.

So go ahead: pretend you're filming a tour of your kitchen cabinets, your bookshelves, your closet, whatever. Narrate the why. Some of it will hold up fine. Some of it will send you straight to move the loaf pans.