A Week Off Is Easier

Saturday night. Sitting and typing. Traditionally, that is not the way to spend a Saturday night. Traditionally, I would be living in a slice of suburbia, in a large house with a large lot, with lots more chores to do. I took a week off, and in an odd adjustment, had to, got to live a life with less to do and more time to do it in. Living in a tiny house made it happen.

I'm 67. I'm retired, or not. Such a traditional title doesn't make much sense, anymore. For a few decades it made sense to work for decades, retire at 65, and then - whatever.

Not anymore, or at least not as often as before. I write. I take pictures. Recently, I gave talks, gave classes, and consulted. 

All my doctors agree that I work too hard. (Details on my other blog and in my latest book, Muddling By.)

On Monday, my body rebelled. I was taking a day off because my body just sad, enough. And then the weather came in. And various things got cancelled. And I had a week of rest delivered just in time. There was nothing to do, and it was odd.

In a traditional house there'd be more chores. More windows to make sure are sealed. More roof to make sure hasn't lost a shingle. A bigger yard to manage. Add your favorite chores to the list.

For me, there's just less. 

Size matters in ways that aren't simple square footage. For several days I could sleep in, read, watch videos, and generally lounge about a bit.

I would have to practice that. I wasn't bored, but I am more comfortable doing stuff.

It is nearly Spring, but that also means it is still Winter. The weather has been cold and wet. Throw in some wind. Until today, There was snow on the grass around sunrise, but that quickly melted. I did a few chores, and as the air warmed, I got on my bicycle. Not a bad way of living. 

There is no grand glorious theme or message. There's no parade for advocacy or award for getting by with less. This is just an observation that living simpler and tinier has its advantages.