October, the Month of E-Cleaning

Do you have thousands of unread emails in your inbox that it's already uncomfortable just to look at? You're on holiday, you open your phone for a second, and even that feels like too much. The email app shows a huge number in a red circle. Well, let's connect that with a calendar.

There's something quietly powerful about a calendar. We've all been following one consistently for hundreds of years. Although traditions have transformed quite a lot lately compared to just two generations ago, do we still resonate with the values those holidays stand for? A few years ago I started asking myself this question.

Most of us inherit our celebrations. Christmas, Easter, Ramadan, Diwali; these carry centuries of meaning for billions of people, and that's beautiful. But if you're not religious, you're left with... long weekends. And that feels like a waste of something fundamental. Because celebration isn't just about rest. It's about remembering. It's about saying: this thing matters to me, and I will set aside time to honour it.

That's why humans have done it since the beginning. We mark solstices, harvests, ancestors. The impulse is ancient and healthy. So years ago, I started building my own calendar. International Day of Forests. International Day of Languages. World Animal Day. I didn't know how to celebrate all those days, but I gave myself time and tried to figure it out. Small gestures, a donation, a good conversation, a habit I keep for a day or more. Nothing grand. But it gives me a rhythm that reflects who I am rather than who I'm expected to be.

Then I started thinking about data centres.

Not in an abstract way. In a "wait, what are they actually storing?" way. And the answer is... mostly junk. Emails we'll never open. AI conversations that were mildly useful for ten minutes and then vanished from our memory. Newsletters we subscribed to during a moment of optimism three years ago. Photos duplicated across four services. Files we forgot we had.

We're cutting forests to build warehouses for digital clutter. And nobody is cleaning up.

So I thought: let me e-clean and make it consistent. I checked how I could connect this with my calendar, to make it consistent and a gesture for the environment. I looked up when the first email was sent in history, and there it was.

The first email was sent in October 1971.

Ray Tomlinson, working at Bolt Beranek and Newman on ARPANET. He didn't remember which day exactly, and that's even better. So October became my e-cleaning month, starting this year. Not a single purge-day with pressure and guilt. A little each day, when I have time. Unsubscribe from that newsletter. Delete that thread. Empty the trash folder. Clear the AI chats that served their purpose and can go. It's like cleaning your house before Easter, except the holiday I'm preparing for is just... lightness. A smaller footprint. A cleaner relationship with the tools I use every day.

Why this belongs on a UX blog.

Because this is a design problem. The systems we build are designed to accumulate infinite storage, infinite feeds, infinite history. Nothing encourages deletion. Nothing makes it easy or rewarding. The UX of digital hygiene is almost nonexistent.

And because this is a communication problem. We hoard information. We're afraid of losing it, because we never designed better ways to let go. A developer who replaces a newsletter with a simple app that only shows you what you haven't read - that's UX. A product that gently asks "do you still need this?" - that's UX. A calendar that reminds you to breathe and declutter - that's also UX.

The process is the point.

I don't expect myself to have this figured out today. I had an idea, and I let it develop. That's how I get to know myself better, by adapting my habits to my beliefs and watching what sticks. I enjoy the process more than the result.

If you already have your own calendar, your own way of marking what matters, I'd love to hear about it. And if you want to try October, you don't need to do it all. One unsubscribe is a start. One deleted thread is a gesture. One conversation with a friend about why you're doing it is already a celebration.

Text edited with Euria from Infomaniak.

Planning image thanks to Estée Janssens from Unsplash.

E-mail image thanks to Gabrielle CC from Pixabay.