Arms Reach

"How can you live in such a tiny place?" I hear that, if not verbatim, then at least implicitly. As I approach two months in my new old big tiny house I wonder why I ever lived in places that were five times larger.

Yes, once upon a time, I lived in houses that were over 2,000 square feet. That was normal. My real estate broker told me so. The banker told me so. At least it was big enough for bigger parties, which gave my friends an opportunity to ask why I had so many empty rooms and so little furniture. At least there was plenty of room for dancing.

Life in a tiny house means everything is within arm's reach, or at least feels that way.

When I was a realtor I learned that a professional chef's kitchen looked very suburban and very modest. They didn't want the grand expanse of Sub-Zero appliances, pasta stations, and a wall of cabinets filled with fancy plates. They were happy with cooktop, oven, fridge, sink, enough cabinets for the basics, and all within reach or a few steps. A big pantry is appreciated. Lots of outlets. Lots of counter space, but not too much. The artistry was in their expertise, not in the gadgets they bought. Just make sure there's enough room to open the fridge and the oven. (Personal experience: The local utility gave away free fridges to folks with old fridges. Thanks, but it meant some interesting maneuvering for the next several years.)

My office space is much smaller now. Fingertip-to-fingertip spans the desk and the storage. It feels efficient. The greatest inefficiency is me. OK, I had to move the printer to an adjoining counter, but I've seen a re-arrangement that would solve that.

Here's a decadent indulgence. From the bedroom and the bathroom, dirty clothes sail in small arcs into the laundry hamper. The washer/dryer isn't here, yet, but it will make a nice triangle of chores.

There are caveats, of course. The great majority of what I had in the kitchen, the office, laundry, the bathroom, and the bedroom resides in the storage unit miles up the road. The realization is that I rarely need to go there. The obvious things made themselves obvious weeks ago. A couple of trips to readjust took care of that.

My lot has a pad for a 6x8 foot shed which can be tall enough for me to stand in. There are also three mini-sheds for things like small ladders and weedwhackers. If I ever buy the tall shed, then I'll bring the ladder and larger tools home. I'll still need a storage unit to meet state requirements for business records storage. Shrug. OK.

I frequently flashback to my married life in a 2,400 square foot, two-story, Northwest contemporary house in heavy suburbia (i.e., within two miles of a Walmart that was surrounded by neighborhoods.) Maybe that was a good and sad use of space. She had her space. I had mine. Between them was a lot of space. A lot. But, if that's all it takes to be happy, then it can be a good use of space. Except for exercise spaces, we didn't use much more.

I flash back to a simple thing. The trip in the middle of the night to get a snack from the kitchen was a journey. Stairs were involved. A robe for the long trip. By the time I got there, I'd be awake. Little things like climbing the stairs would convince my body it was time to get up. It is decadent to take ten steps one way, ten steps back, and back into bed. The bathroom is even closer. Convenient, for sure. Comfortable, too.

People in tinies with loft bedrooms may have a different experience.

Pacing the floor could be a problem. Acoustic isolation can be an issue for other people living there. Working on big things is an issue; and I erected a work bench in my storage unit for some of that. I might rent a workout space for some of my karate exercises. Some accommodations must be made.

But.

This kitchen is larger than the one I had, but not by much. Things are still within easy reach. This fridge opens all the way. Yay. My desk wouldn't be enough in the days of desktop computers, but laptops and skinny monitors mean a few square feet of wood suffices. And, you know, most of the time that I'm asleep I don't notice the size of the bedroom.

How can I live in such a tiny space? Why would I want to live in any place that is much larger?