I Miss My Parties
I miss my parties. See? There are some things I miss by living in a tiny house: a large pantry, workout space, and enough room for the kind of parties I like to hold. Sigh. Haven't found a replacement - yet. But, it has been interesting trying to find one.
Feeling lonely? Back in 2007, the person whose house I bought sold it because it was too far from town. It was too easy to feel lonely. They sold and moved to The Big City. I have no idea how it worked out.
I do know that they inspired me to create my own social circle. About three or four times a year, I'd hold a party. It was simple. Here's an excerpt from one of the invitations.
Nothing fancy. I'll have some snacks, some drinks, and some music - as usual. I'll probably even clean up the house - at least a little.
Maybe some dancing.
As usual, the best way to make sure there's something that fits your tastes and diet is to bring it.
Invite friends. My email list isn't complete.
Kids are welcome, but you have to take as many as you bring. Net zero.
Highlight that 'nothing fancy.' Also, highlight that my friends were the entertainment, and the style, and the energy - and they usually cleaned up afterwards and left this single guy (who likes to cook) with leftovers. It could take me weeks to finish off the wine.
The record was a party that turned into four dance venues: swing, waltz, latin, nightclub. 30 dancers in an 868 square foot house where people spilled out onto the deck and into the carport. Epic.
Another memorable one was only about six of us, quiet, but some great and thoughtful conversations.
I miss my parties.
My tiny house is 391 square feet. That's 45% of the other house's size. 45% of 30 would be just over 13 people. In this house? Ha! Eep! Sure. Physically doable. The decks are smaller. There's no carport.
Sigh. I miss my parties.
But...
I search for solutions.
Within the last couple of years, the US Surgeon General has announced an epidemic of loneliness. The other epidemic drove too many of us into isolation, some by choice, some by necessity, some as an excuse to live out an introvert's and hermit's dream.
I can feel that loneliness, and know that I am not alone. If I was still back in my bigger house, there'd be more parties, except for not being able to afford to live there anymore. I can handle enough loneliness that some mistake me for a hermit, but I know that I benefit from being in and with people at least a day or two a week. Thank you, dancers!
Life in a tiny house for me has been quiet and comfortable. This blog lists a long set of reasons why I like it here. But, I also am aware that my life is better if I don't just stay here. Fortunately, and by choice, I am an hour from a National Park, within ten miles of probably a dozen dance sites, and surrounded by coffeehouses and tea houses and seminars and festivals and theaters and... Boredom becomes a conscious choice because simply going shopping can involve visiting a farmers market or an art show.
Hurricane Ridge - Olympic National Park
For me, life in a tiny house is not confined to the tiny house. There's a world out there to play with. I've joined or volunteered at a local museum, theater, housing advocacy group, and informally contacted several organizations. The majority of my waking time is spent on an office stool or in My Big Comfy Chair, but most days, I launch myself into something else. I even get to some of the events by bicycle thanks to an excellent, though not flat, bicycle trail that leads into town.
Tiny house living is intentional living because so much has to fit into a tiny space, but so much of what can fill a life doesn't have to fill a drawer or a closet. There are parties out there - and someone else gets to clean them up!