My dream tiny house looked like a box of animal crackers before PETA took the circus car off its tracks. It was forty feet long and ten feet wide with an elephant rump sharing the back with the WIDE LOAD sign. I was entirely convinced that the only way I could go tiny would be to go full-out 400 square feet with the 13.5 inch maximum height.
And then I suddenly lost my 1500 square foot storage shed. A judge has ordered that I sell the house, and it has only been halted by the coronovirus.
This is the true test of tiny house living. I really don’t know if I can let go of my stuff, and I really don’t know if it’s worth saving.
It is time to come back to the original premise of this blog, which is to chronicle the jouney from Full House to Tiny House.
I don’t want to leave the impression that the journey is without challenges. At the moment, I have a financial challenge. Tomorrow it might be hooks or dishes. From the downshifting standpoint, every day is a new challenge, and the process is very slow.
One big issue is that I LIKE having all my stuff out where I can see it, but I HATE the idea of sharing the view with a guest, even though I have carefully selected the items I’d like to have someone see.
I should really have someone over once a week so that I’ll keep up to date….if I ever get caught up that much.
There is a man in one of my tiny house groups who is my age and currently entertains his fiancee in his loft with a twin mattress. He’s trying to decide if he needs to switch to a queen when they marry, acknowledging that sexual acrobatics are not an issue.
I responded that a twin size mattress would have been fine for me, but I prefer to remain hopeful. However, I have a sneaking suspicion I went with a double – and might have liked the queen, had there been floorspace – because I have a motorized storage space under the bed, and storage in a tiny house is prime real estate.
It took six months to figure out what belonged there,and the first item was….me!
While I had feng shui concerns about sleeping above documents and cast iron pans, it turned out to be great for costumes and swimwear. I still have wonderful dreams, plenty of room to roll around, a seven-foot ceiling and room to grow.
But I still hope they send an update after the honeymoon.
I am waiting until Mercury goes direct before I remove the leaves from the privacy deck. The trees haven’t finished dancing in the wind, so we might as well all dance together this full Mourning Moon.
I was reviewing the various names given to this moon in November, because Beaver Moon kept making me snicker. I settled on the witchy name because it is time to say goodbye to some things that don’t serve me in the tiny house. When I get rid of the roof leaves, there will be other things in the tiny house that no longer serve. Fall Cleaning and Winterizing should only take a day or two.
So congratulations to me in my tiny house for six months so far. I look forward to coccooning all winter.
You have to be creative in a tiny house. You do not have to be weird. But for some reason, I seem to be both.
So yes, I blow bubbles when I’m stuck in traffic. Now that I have finally realized we’re all in it together, I roll down my window and pull the bubbles out of the cubby in the door. I avoid nearby bikers and sportscars with clean paint jobs. I know there are a couple of safety issues. I especially like to blow bubbles when little kids are in the next car, and I like to see when they realize it’s me.
I haven’t tried this in the freezing cold weather, but I hear they turn into little fairy crystal balls. I think I should practice this on the privacy deck. Maybe I could make an igloo of frozen bubbles….
I buy everything in miniature for my tiny house. Who needs a big cake lifter when you just want to flip an egg? Not even a dragon’s egg, just an egg egg.
I have no mirror in my tiny bathroom, and no paper holder. That leaves plenty of room for the guest book.
I have no night stand. Just a tower of hat boxes, and I have no hats. I have no dresser to stuff with underwear I will never put on.
My plants rarely survive so all of them have the word “moon” in them except the itty bitty. Nordic Spruce Christmas trees and a purple mini cactus.
My cat doesn’t even live with me. It’s not my cat but it visits a lot. It isn’t full grown or it’s a tiny cat, and I don’t know if it can come onto the moon deck because its private parts are still a mystery. Only females can go on the moon deck.
Anyway, you have to be creative when you live in a tiny house – because life gets so much bigger.
Few of the items I’ve dropped on the floor have been worth the trouble caused by an attempt to repair them with super-glue. This jar was an exception. It has more value as a badly repaired container than the flour canister it once was.
I bought the whole set, but I didn’t have the flour-sugar-coffee-tea counter space, so it was easy to re-gift them to the thrift shop. I only wanted the peach jar because that was a brief nickname I used before it was an emoji. Inside are a T-shirt, a pewter Viking ship, a river rock, a clementine sticker, and a history. The entire jar represents a piece of my life that opened up to me at a perfect time.
And because it tells me a whole story from Once upon a time to happily ever after, it stands as a monument to bravery, love, enchantment, joy and imperfection.
Of course, it got stuck to my jeans, which are gone now. Super glue repairs tend to separate the ‘keeps’ from the ‘tosses’.
You know the wind has shifted when you are glad the fairy mug broke, because there was no room for it in the tiny house anyway.
I knew my clutter issues were still with me when a fellow tiny houser told me that when my replacement mug arrived, the damaged one should be tossed, and I had already begun thinking of saving the original to hold highlighters until I found the merchant information for a refund. Dropping it saved me the trouble and time of going through hours of paperwork.
Soon after, I returned to the family house to pick up the Prime Day packages. I left behind the packaging and a Christmas gift. Within a week I had also returned a coffeemaker.
As I traveled around this week, I realized I had moved “out” and “on” to my tiny house. I’m moved in.
The Fairy Godmother was able to squeeze all her charms and talents into 240 square feet, with plenty of room for her tiny charges to come and go as desired. There was a fire extinguisher and candles and cauldrons with athames both large and small, which is relative in a tiny house with fairy visitors.
The house sat on the edge of reality near figment, where the veil was thinnest under all phases of the moon. At full capacity, it still weighed 17,040 pounds, because the fairies visited only at night, and were therefore naked. When these visitors left, they would take all evidence that they had ever been there. There were clues, but a sharp eye was needed because they were bubble rider sprites; the smallest of the fae, yet the most powerful.
It is important to note that The Fairy Godmother is not of the fae, nor is she a witch. Most days she is an ordinary human who reheats her coffee in the microwave and forgets where she left it. She wears neither wings nor pointy hat. She wears costumes and uniforms above red shoes. In public she wears sneakers with t-shirts from Walmart.
The Fairy Godmother never cackles or talks like a baby. She is just as likely to be talking to a human as a fairy. This is the reason she is sometimes considered to have gone mad.
But she is wise. Wherever her life has shrunk in reality, it has expanded across the veil. She sees the fairies and caresses the stars.