How Much House Is Enough
Looking back on it, I came at this housing thing backwards. Instead of buying the biggest house I could afford, didn't it make more sense to start by learning how much house I could take care of? 'America' (in quotes) doesn't work that way, and doesn't have to.
How big could my house be? If it is decided by how much house I could maintain, then the answer runs back around to the old engineer's adage; given enough time and money, anything is possible. Buckingham Palace costs over $45 million to maintain, and many of its key systems haven't been updated in seventy years. Imagine rewiring that place or replacing its plumbing. How many generations of mice have lived there?
The idea of buying the biggest but least expensive house in a nice neighborhood is based on math, not maintenance. A house is an asset. Leverage that asset by buying something that has a high market value. But that wisdom does not address maintaining the house. If the house can't be maintained, its market value can drop instead of rise.
(Pardon my distraction. As I type this, my tiny house's fridge spools up into its typical whine. If it ain't dying, it certainly sounds like it. Cost. Distracting. Ah. Quiet. Maybe it died. Maybe the worn parts finally warmed up enough to break free of years of grease. Appliance shopping is in my future. Where'd that mental thread go? Ah...)
My first house was about 2,000 square feet. Three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, about a quarter acre. It was the last house in a golf course community - that made sure their sign didn't include my house even though the legal line did. I bought it because I 'should'. I tended the landscaping, but not well enough to keep the junipers contained. By the time I sold it, the roof needed fixing. The hot water tank had busted and been replaced after cascading hot water down the stairs from the second floor. The fireplace insert sounded like my current fridge, now that I think about it. I am somewhat of a minimalist and evidently always have been because when I put it up for sale, buyers thought I'd already moved out even before I packed anything.
I sold it to get married. We moved into a bigger house. (~2,400 sq ft?)
Ah, but two can get a lot more done. The house was bigger and nicer. So was the half-acre lot. She took better care of the house. I did what I could. We were in our prime career years, so some work got hired out, but the place was more than we needed or could use.
We sold. I retired, then we retired and moved to a quieter neighborhood, a more contemporary house, on a larger lot (I think). Work rooms filled up, but the formal spaces could've been hollow. At least it had a hot tub, something I didn't consider a bonus until I learned what it did for a chronically bad back. Ah.
I'll skip the details of the divorce, but after it, I moved to an island and a 1,500-square-foot house. It, too, ended up with empty rooms. It, too, had more bathrooms than I needed, which I had learned still needed to be regularly flushed and cleaned. Some bizarre rental arrangements ensued, and I bought the house I just sold, an 868-square-foot cottage with a view, an 8,000-square-foot lot, and I still had a spare empty room I redefined as a gym.
I do miss the view.
I sold to get out of debt and finally am in my new old big tiny 391-square-foot tiny house on a (rented) 5,000-square-foot lot. Details throughout this blog.
Congratulations to anyone who has read through all of that. Imagine how much time we both would've saved if my first house had been a true tiny that I then expanded out from.
I can't recall where it is, but evidently, there's a high school where the kids get to build their tiny house. By the time they graduate, they can have a house. The land is up to them. Incrementally, they can learn how much is enough, how much they can use, and how much they can maintain.
I can't maintain much, at least relative to my skilled, talented, and experienced friends. I bash together words. They impressively build walls, install plumbing, route wires, tend gardens, etc. They also are not likely to build more than they need. Why keep working on something you won't use when there are other things that are useful or fun or creative or whatever?
One gentleman in particular learned along the way by moving into a small house, eventually living on a boat, and finally has a place with an innovative kitchen, a marvelous laundry, a hoist in the house (temporary?), and an intimate awareness of every structure and system in the place. Oh yeah, and along the way, he built two tiny houses, which are now on the lot as guest houses. He knows, not guesses, knows what he needs. And then there's the garden and the acreage and all the right tools and the room for a dog or two or a pack to run and roam.
My situation is closer to my ideal, but not ideal. I'm definitely glad for it. I can dream of having a house like this on my own rather than rented land, with enough acreage to accommodate a building for storage, a pantry, a workout space (with dancefloor in the upscale dream), and space for a garden and some quiet. A view would be nice. Solar would be good, too.
My housing journey would've been much shorter if I'd listened to myself rather than my conventionally wise realtor at the time (1988). Debt-free sooner. Freer from chores. More time for friends and travel. Maybe enough time to learn carpentry, electrical, plumbing, gardening, etc. in a house I'd be more willing to modify rather than leave conventional to fit in with the neighbors
I wish I'd asked myself or tested myself on how much house I needed and could use and could maintain. I marvel at how uncommon it is for people to ask how big their house should be for their needs instead of society’s expectations - though, if you're reading this, you're probably already asking yourself that.