Two Years In My Tiny House

Two years. Two years ago I sold my home, the only house I owned that I considered a home, and moved into a tiny house. Note: house. I'm glad I did. I miss my view (the Olympics across Puget Sound). I don't miss my mortgage. (Debt Free Again) Life is better, but one of the failings of the English language is that 'feeling better' can be misconstrued as feeling great. Still, better is better. I'd have been surprised if life was suddenly best.

My tiny house is 391 square feet. My home was 868 square feet. The house before that was ~1,100 square feet, before that was a series of >2,000 square foot houses. Life, or at least my living spaces, keeps getting smaller; but, I suspect extrapolation would be a bad idea.

I miss the space, quite literally the space. Each of my earlier homes had empty rooms. I'm a minimalist and never saw a reason to fill them. Space is precious. In some houses, the space was a workout space. In my 868 cottage, there was room for workouts, projects, and dance parties. The right space matters. A lack of carpet made a difference. Hardwood floors are trendy. I just found them handy. No parties in the new place.

I miss the view. It was a nice view, the entire east site of the Olympic Mountain range over the main shipping lane into Seattle, and no city in sight. And a mortgage. Oh well. I'm spending less and making enough more that I am typing this from an oceanside lodge in the Olympic National Park (Kalaloch Lodge). Nice digs. Nice natural background noise - that never turns off.

I've also been lucky, or timely, or whatever. The cash from my house sale went to paying off debt, buying a lot of deferred purchases and services (including lots of healthcare), and stock. My stocks have done well. (TrimbathCreative.net)

Unfortunately, I don't own my 5,000 square foot lot. I rent it for ~$640 per month. I also rent a storage unit to hold stuff that doesn't fit in 391 sq ft. (~$220 per month) I also rent workout space three times a week, partly because some karate routines need more than a ten-foot wide space. ($70 per week) The car has to live unsheltered, but it's a Jeep, but today's Jeeps are not like old Jeeps. Stay tuned.

There was uncertainty when I had a mortgage, as in almost losing my house because it got too expensive. There is uncertainty with my new place because, while I own the house, I rent the land. And the land is for sale (and has been for two years, without resolution.)

Today's ideal, which shifts with news items, friendships, market swings, etc., is my own place on my own land with enough room to do the things I want to do, including a long list of wants and needs too long to list. I wouldn't want to leave anything out, so I'll generalize. Parties and karate and gardening and peace are important. I continue to check my lottery tickets. (My stocks are doing well, but housing costs.)

Today's reality is that I have a house, not a home. It is a fine and functional space. It is designed for function. It is a workspace for writing books and such, and a living space for the basics of life. One luxurious splurge has been a washer/dryer. One ridiculous realization has been that a washer/dryer that shakes may not move a cottage, but it can shake the glasses in a house built light enough to be trailered down the road.

Tiny is good. I am actively learning how to manage free (Free!) time because there are fewer chores. A therapist pointed out that I was raised to work, but never learned how to play. An interesting exercise for a 67 year old person.

Tiny is also good because costs are down. Square footage matters.

Tiny is also good because the risk is down. The house cost $76,500. That helps limit any losses.

Living in a mobile home park (and discussions can be made about 'mobile', 'home', and 'park') is less private, noisier, and can lack elegance, but that's not as bad as it may seem. Rich folks in big houses on big lots can spend lots of money making big noises, too.

But my house is not a home, or at least doesn't feel that way. Some of my neighbors do excellent jobs at making their places social places. I live alone. I have work to do. I do it. Three laptops strategically placed. A fancy desk that rises and retreats. A large monitor. A separate display for DVDs, and such. And a flexibility that, if there was a good reason for someone to move in, a lot of stuff could move out quickly. The functionality could be moved to a coworks. Solutions exist. My situation is not permanent.

And I dream of that other, larger space that could be a home, possibly for more than one.

And I'm glad I am where I am. Tiny house living is not for everyone. But, in today's economy, having everything I need and much of what I want has proved to be affordable. $76,000. That's about three years rent in some places, and I get to keep, or sell, the house. Luxury!

It is a luxury. Owning my own space is a luxury. Housing is a need, but in our current society and economy, housing is something we only permit some people to have. (Long soap box moment that I'll save for its own post.)

Two years. I've been in that space for two years and I am still finding things like rhubarb in the garden, a door to access the crawlspace, and yet another way to rearrange the things on the shelves that makes better sense.

Life in a tiny house is not static. Life in a tiny house doesn't have to be a (dead?) end point. Life in a tiny house is yet another way to live, to have a life, and one that may have relief and joy. I'll buy that.

No Need To Shop