One Year In My Tiny House
There's a video for that. I produced a ten-minute-ish video of a tour of my tiny house. I can think of a few ways of celebrating my first year in my tiny house, with one way being making the video for my friends who've been asking for and been interested in what life is like in it. Life in it has been like life in a conventional house, simply smaller, and simply simpler. But let's see if there's more to say about that.
https://youtu.be/ZDPaJ9X-rGY
I smile when I think of the video. It certainly isn't grand. It certainly isn't professional. It certainly is as real as my version of privacy will allow. It certainly is not the typical sort of tiny house video that shows a showroom, or even an art gallery, level of presentation. My house is real. It wasn't crafted as a showpiece. It hasn't been polished and primed for public viewing. But readers of my writing know that I tend to tell about reality rather than fantasy - cleaned up at least a little.
Another reason I chuckle at it is because this tiny house has a ten-minute video. Ten minutes for a tiny house? I was a realtor for a while. Entire suburban houses can be toured in that time. Go figure. Actually, it makes sense. I mention things that would make no sense in a real estate ad because the video is about where and how I live in a tiny space, not a simple display of walls and windows.
I hope the video is useful. At least it should answer some questions that are harder to answer otherwise.
The deeper story is not going to fit into this post. That's why this blog exists. This blog holds a few dozen posts so far. Browse the titles to get a glimpse of topics I've already mentioned.
The adjustment hasn't been radical, at least for me. The adjustment hasn't been onerous or spectacular. That lack of drama may be the most important piece. It is a house, a home. Why make it into anything more than that? Especially in today's world where much of life happens on screens and in computers, there isn't as much need for more floor space.
Ah, but some want to hear the downside. So, here we go.
I miss having parties. My small 868-square-foot house was a party place about three times a year as money allowed.
I miss my pantry. I like to cook and have emergency supplies handy, but am renting a remote storage unit to cover some of that.
I miss owning the land I live on. That isn't a tiny house thing, but my tiny house is in a mobile home park, and I don't have landscape freedom on the rented land. That may change. Stay tuned.
I miss having a carport. My car's a Jeep, so maybe it doesn't care, but I miss being able to get it out of the weather, and for me to be able to get in and out without worrying about rain or snow. I also miss the storage. A garage can be good too, but after over a decade with a carport, I came to like not having to worry about garage doors.
I miss having a space to work out. I practice a type of karate that benefits from occasionally using big open covered spaces (sounds like a carport). Instead, I rent workout spaces a few times a week. It isn't optimal, but that much space costs a lot of money to buy.
Let me give the upside some exposure.
I do not have a mortgage. Yay! That doesn't show up in the video, but friends tell me that the reduced stress is apparent in my face. Instead of continual expense dread, hope has more opportunity to sneak in, to be welcomed in.
I do not have as much house to maintain and worry about. When the smoke alarm beeps, or I hear an odd noise or feel a draft, I can check the entire house in a few minutes.
Cleaning is less of a chore. I still don't look forward to it, but it also doesn't take long to do. Besides, there's only one bedroom, and only one bathroom, and only 391 square feet of floor space. I feel sorry for people with a traditional three-bedroom, two-and-a-half bathroom, 2,400 square-foot house.
Almost everything is close, unless it is in the storage unit.
It requires intentional living, and that's a good thing. I have always been a bit of a minimalist, and yet moving into this much space proved how much of what I own is purely decorative out of obligation to societal norms, and how much of it is scrapbook and personal museum material. Much of the stuff in the storage unit is framed photos, memorabilia, heirlooms that no one else wants, and fragile art that I didn't display anyway. Most of those boxes have only been opened to check their contents, not to use what is in them.
And, of course, saying I live in a new old big tiny house is a conversation starter.
Living in a tiny house in a neighborhood of tiny houses in an area with lots of RVs and people who live on boats reinforces the idea of what is big enough. It also demonstrates the variety of definitions of tiny. It also demonstrates the varieties of freedom. The RVers and the live-aboards may consider me to be conventional because my house doesn't move without great effort.
Living in a tiny house is also a reminder of how easily our society can look past solutions to existing problems. I remember some charitable philanthropists talking about affordable housing. They didn't feel it was right to ask anyone to live in anything less than 1,500 square feet. I told them I was already living in 'only' 868, and it was the nicest home I enjoyed. I also told them that someone who is homeless is probably going to appreciate a roof, walls, a door, and windows. A kitchen and a bath that they don't have to share might seem like a luxury after trying to survive in a shelter or under an overpass or out in the woods. Ah, but such a radically different life upsets their sensibilities. What's more important, people or ...? Every comparison that comes to mind: architecture, style, standards, etc. seems to degrade the importance of people simply by comparing them to abstract notions instead of the realities of lives.
This house is not as good of an investment as a conventional house, but it costs a lot less. I sold my house for over $500,000, cleared about half of that, got out of debt, and bought this tiny house for $76,500. Zillow and Redfin disagree on the value. Realtor.com gave up.
I went from a declining financial situation that would've required the sale of my small house within twenty months to stable finances with over a decade's cash reserves. My tiny house is the rough equivalent of three years of renting a modest house. In the meantime, I've been able to profitably invest in the stock market, un-defer thousands of dollars in deferred purchases and health care treatments, and help others.
And a house is not a lifelong obligation. Change is the only constant, and the world is certainly changing. There's that 'certainly' word again. The larger world is trying to navigate through shifting uncertainties. I have less of that existential anxiety now. Besides winning a lottery jackpot, the largest improvement in positive certainty I can attempt to plan for is to buy land to live on. Whether in this house moved there, a different tiny house there, or even a small-ish house there, there is a better chance of stability and sustainability in a house without a mortgage on land with the freedom to define how I live. I'm glad I'm partway there and making progress to attaining the rest.
Stay tuned for what comes next. It is a mystery to me, too.