Not Much Different

A year and a half. That's about how long I've lived in my new old big tiny house. Eighteen months of life in 391 square feet. Considering all of the blogs and videos about tiny houses, it would seem obvious that there'd be something new to say every day. Not so much, and that's the good thing. It's not that different from living in a conventional house, and for some folks like me, it can even be better.

Life in a tiny house is like life in a house. I don't take a roof, walls, doors, and windows for granted. For years, I've written about housing from mansions to minimalist by necessity, and about those who have even less. This life is good.

There's always something to gripe about, but that's true of houses. As I type, I notice the mini-split heat exchanger blowing cold air on an autumn day. It does that after cycling through hours of heating. It might do that in a bigger house, too. I've mentioned how the washer/dryer shakes the house, but that's simple mass and physics. After a year of being here, it's obvious that I still benefit from renting a storage locker. I need a place for things like old business records and things I don't use daily or even monthly (or maybe not at all). Stuff has settled enough that I've freed up shelf space indoors. Maybe I'll leave it that way.

Except for dancing, exercising, and entertaining, I don't miss the extra space. There are no long hallways between rooms. Anything in the house is less than 39 feet away and within five feet of the centerline. I still may not find it, but I know it must be near - or in storage.

I live alone (cue whatever soundtrack you want to play to that), so I've customized the space to do what I do. If I decide to arrange the place without regard to appearances, fine. A neighbor takes a different approach by spreading art everywhere, but without having to fill thousands of square feet of floor, walls, and windows. There is an efficiency that is comforting. This space is mine. I'm definitely willing to renegotiate it, but so far the meeting attendees is me.

I decided to treat myself and re-arrange the layout. I finished my recent book, Muddling By; and my portfolio is looking healthier (though not today); so I realized I could replace the range and the fridge with units that would allow me to re-arrange some wire rack storage. I almost did it. Then I learned that the electrical panel couldn't accommodate the range I wanted, and that the fridge is old enough that they don't make them that size anymore. Sigh.

Sigh, but not a big sigh. Those were improvements by choice, not by necessity. Besides, those are physical constraints that money and contractors may be able to fix. Get the park management to allow a higher-capacity line. Get a carpenter to modify the cabinetry to fit a new fridge. Those things take longer than swapping appliances. Maybe next year, after the holidays.

For me, life is not much different.

More of our lives are spent online, hours spent with a phone in hand or a laptop on a lap while eyes stare at a close screen. That doesn't take much room. My kitchen is bigger than my earlier one. Much of my previous bathroom was wasted space, and more to clean. The size of the room doesn't change how I sleep. And most days, I am glad to spend more time out in the world, whether that's working, volunteering, socializing, or basically being. The amount of time when the extra space might be missed is a small fraction of my life, mostly discretionary, and evidently can be handled because I've been here a year and a half.

Drama and simple declarative statements are suggestions for good writing. Shrug. Why invent drama, especially when a simple life is simply an easier and less dramatic way to live? Any drama comes from conventional perspectives that feel challenged. How can I live in such a tiny space? We all live in tiny spaces. At any time, we are restricted to how far we can reach. A bigger house simply means adding space between the spaces where we reach one thing, and where we reach the next thing.

Less to take care of. Less to heat or cool. Not none, but less. There's already too much going on in the world. It is comforting and welcoming to live with less, so maybe there's that difference. OK for me.