A Guest At A Time

I've really got to clean up this place. When I had a full-sized house (868 square feet!) I semi-regularly had parties. Parties means guests. Guests means making the place look nice. So, my house got cleaned, at least occasionally. Now, in my new old big tiny house? Not so much. 

I've been in my tiny house for eight months. The time does go by. I'm finally feeling fairly settled-in, like when a bed that's been made up has been turned into a swirl of sheets as someone snuggles under the covers, feeling comfy but looking rumply. In that much time, I'd have had two parties. In my tiny house, it means I've had far fewer guests and visits. 

The place is fine and clean, but definitely crumpled. A few improvement projects are covering the few counters. Shoes are marching across the floor despite having a rack to sit on. My lack of a pantry shows in several extra cans and containers sitting outside cupboards as I decide how best to reorganize the original organization. I'm sure some visiting dog would be grateful for some dropped treats, but they would barely get a snack out of a few bits of granola clustered under the kitchen's kick panels. Messy, but comfy.

Browse tiny house videos and articles and see pristine mini-palaces. They appear to be concentrated examples of Architecture Digest worthy of clicks and Shares. Like. 

Maybe if I prettied up the place, this blog would get more traffic. I'm not living here for that. This is a house being turned into a home. Homes are lived in. Maybe if I cropped out most of the stuff.

As one friend pointed out, I may be a minimalist, but not when it comes to outdoor gear. Hiking, snowshoeing, skiing, bicycling, and generally living in the messy weather around the Salish Sea means layers and layers, gear for everything from lightweight drizzles to hurricane blizzards.

But, a dear friend and nomad was traveling through. OK. At least straighten things by putting them into rows or out of the way. And make room for sitting and visiting.

Fold up the big comfy chair. Roll aside the kitchen island. Shove the desk stool under the desk. Make the bed at least well enough to hide some flat laundry. Invite them in. Know the house tour will be quick and quirky. Then, settle into some unfolded directors chairs while we dive into a conversation that will go on for a long time and be far too short. Then, a goodbye hug, and reverse much of what had been done. 

I'm back in the comfy chair.

As my neighbors have proved, visiting and guests does not have to be limited to one person at a time. House tours can be truncated even further because it becomes readily apparent that to preserve privacy a closed door may curtail the visible square footage by half. Here's the kitchen, dining room / living room / office / gym / parlor. And yes, there's the bathroom. Can't hide that. Gotta clean that.

It is hard to imagine the intimacy of a few friends in such a properly-sized space when compared to McMansions that require maps and commute times from the front to the back. Guests can get lost and miss the conversation. Puppies and toddlers may prefer having room to explore; they enjoy getting lost, for a few moments.

Tiny house living is intentional living. An occupant can design their space to accommodate more. One resourceful neighbor uses a collapsible party tent. I've been to one of their parties that had a couple of dozen guests. The size of the lot can be a stronger determinant of a party's population. Nice weather helps. So does a flexible and resourceful crowd. Remember those layers? They can be worn at parties, too.

My apologies to readers and followers who seek the pretty pictures. This blog isn't for that. This blog is for the reality of living in a tiny house. In my case, that means a place designed for the basic comforts and such, but also for stretching and writing and reading - and occasionally putting away My Big Comfy Chair and brewing some tea for more than just me.