Yes. I might be crazy, but I’m not delusional. For example, I know I can’t live in 150 square feet, about the size of my bedroom, no matter how well mapped out a space might be. But I do hope for 320 square feet with loft space.
I’ve lived in some very small spaces up until I moved into this manufactured home. Some spaces barely fit a bed, but then there were shared common spaces. I have learned a few things thinking back and gazing forward.
First: It is possible to have all your possessions moved from flat to flat in a London Black Cab. NOTE: Except your futon base. You’ll need to go back for that…
Second: The bigger your house, the more you keep things you don’t need just because you can. You don’t need to be discerning in your choices because, well, there’s a ton of space. Do these things make you happier than when your life fit into a large public transport vehicle? Not really.
Third: The Law Of Ladies Handbags also applies to homes. The Law states when you have too many things in your small purse, you get a bigger one to have more space. For a while you are impressed with its roominess. Soon, more things find their way into said purse, so you get an even larger one, and so on and so on. This only stops when you realize your next bag will be too large to carry everywhere and you end up ditching all the bags that came before and begin again with a smaller one. When you really think about this you realize you did not feel like you were going without or diminished when using the smaller bag, which means you only filled the larger bag because you could. It’s the same with homes. I moved from a 400 square foot apartment into a 900 square foot manufactured home. All the empty space was disconcerting so furniture started filling the space and then things began to fill the furniture. I fixed up that place, sold it and bought my current 1440 square foot wonder of wonders. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Fourth: Small can feel big. Before I moved to the Pacific Northwest I lived in San Francisco. I had a fantastic, affordable little apartment on the corner of Bush and Powell. It had a closet as big as some of the rooms I rented when I lived in London and a pocket door, so technically the studio could become a one-bedroom. At one point there were three of us living there and I never recall a time, other than normal roommate stuff, that it ever felt cramped. Out of curiosity and to help me make a decision regarding whether or not I could actually live in a Tiny House, I looked up that apartment square footage. A whopping 380 square feet. Yet we had a gorgeous claw foot tub, a semi functional kitchen, a large entry hall, a huge closet and two rooms. This is what solidified in my mind that I could live Tiny again.
Fifth: A lot of folks are excited about Tiny Houses. I was surprised when most of my brothers had heard about them and even looked into them. Then there are those who will stare at your blankly. Why on earth would you pay to live in a tiny space? And then there are my parents who just think I am certifiable. It’s all okay. Whatever anyone chooses to do for whatever reasons is okay. You have to be true to yourself and keep on keeping on in whatever direction that takes you.
Sixth: I am intimidated by the word “Water Tank”.
Seventh: I am more intimidated by the word “Composting Toilet” (especially the ones that divide waste) and still, after much research, have yet to really understand the incinerating ones.
Eighth: It is much easier to be courageously moving into a small space when your parents have a house you can stack boxes in. This is no longer the case for me. I’m confident I’ll figure it out right around the same time I figure out incinerating toilets.