No Need To Shop

A rainy day. Not much to do inside. Can't, or at least don't want to, do anything outside. What to do? Welcome to a life with extra time.

For the last twenty-ish years I've lived in or around tourist towns. Before that I visited them frequently, but my perspective changed when I moved to one. The downtowns are pretty and cute. Tourists come to eat, drink, shop, and snooze. I can definitely appreciate that vibe.

But, as one tourist head-of-household said at 10AM as they walked out of a shop (paraphrased); "Now what is there to do?" I got the impression that they didn't get a big enough bang for their bucks. That's where the 'snoozing' comes in, but there isn't a direct charge for that, so there's less advertising for that.

Recently I had a rainy day. I was sitting in my comfy chair in my not-so-tiny (391 square feet) tiny house and didn't know what to do. It felt odd and unfulfilling. And then I thought back to that tourist. What did I do in a bigger house on a rainy day?

There was always more cleaning to do. I had a carport, so I had some shelter for some outside work. And there was also something that needed to be fixed, replaced, or added inside. As my Dad said, "If you buy a bigger house, get busy filling it with furniture." It was a never-ending activity - until I gave up.

In one of my big houses (~2,200 square feet), when I went to sell it buyers thought I'd moved out. Nope. I never found a need or even a desire to fill the extra bedroom and the formal living room. It turned out the space was worth more to me. It gave me room to workout, or layout a project. 

I am glad I avoided the trap of buy and fill and buy some more.

But now I have even less. Tiny houses enforce downsizing. There's less to do inside. In my mobile home park there's less to do outside, and then I have to get a manager's approval. I don't want to live a life of sitting behind a computer, so I decided to go into town, yet another tourist town.

But wait. I know what's going on in the tourist town. I'm not going to buy much, and probably nothing because gift shops don't carry the practical things I want/need. I prefer my cooking. Naps are nice, but 24 hours of sleeping is unsustainable. So, what to do?

It took a while and a metaphorical slap to my noggin to realize that much of what we do is to maintain a lifestyle, or at least the appearance of a lifestyle. Living in a tiny house makes that simpler. I don't want to fall into that trap. 

Live. Such a simple sentiment. Someday I'll do this or that. Living in a tiny house takes less time and effort which leaves more time to live, to do the things I want to do, to do the things we can all benefit from. Get out of the house.

Even in the rain, there's volunteering. There's also seeing the reality of picture-postcard places when they're a bit bedraggled. A road trip is safe from most weather. See more of the world. Another motto around here is that there is no bad weather, just the wrong clothing. Wander outside along the shore, in the forests, or up in the mountains. Live.

I'm living more. It takes a while to move into a new place, but it's been about two years and now I am getting past the boxes and reshuffling phase. I can notice the dances. I can volunteer, sometimes even officially. Doing something good without management review can seem scandalous. Be legal and considerate but sometimes it is nice to do something nice.

Ostensibly I am at Kalaloch Beach to do one of my Twelve Month photo essays, but I am also here to walk, snooze, read, and NOT shop. Kalaloch Beach is a lodge and cabin complex on an all-too-low bluff beside the Pacific Ocean. My house's lawn was mowed. The bills are mostly paid. And it started to rain. 

Four hours (and some planning time) later, I'm sitting here typing, while the waves rumble in the background, and as I glance up I can see to the horizon. Why stay home?

I didn't do this before because I couldn't. The mortgage and various debts I accumulated meant there was no money to spend on renting a beachside place. It was harder to find time, too.

Now, I've lost my house and its view, but I also lost a mortgage and am debt-free. I've also lost a lot of chores that were required to maintain an appearance. I've gained time and money and a peace of mind, which is hard to put a value on.

Hmm. It looks like the rain has stopped.There are occasional patches of blue sky. I think it's time to make a sandwich, take a nap, then wander into the world.