Last night was my first night sleeping in my tiny house. I was nestled quietly in bed, looking around at the wooden walls, and listening to the rain fall, when I realized how I was in a new house for the first time and it didn’t feel like a new house, it felt like a safe haven. I have lived in an apartment, an old house, a farm house, a new house, a completely run-of-the-mill house, a mansion, a camper, but never in my first night did I feel so at home. It may be the smallness that I love, it may be the fact that I have been involved so much in it’s planning, or it may be that it is just right for me.
It is functional, but not yet complete. The appliance delivery truck was delayed in bringing out my order, which put some of the project behind. Of course though, realistically speaking, I had accounted for such delays in my expectation so it was more like a planned-for delay and therefore not so bad. Nevertheless, I have a refrigerator, stove, dishwasher, bed, sink, (broken cabinet) lights, air conditioner, and microwave already. A large portion of the work has been done, leaving more of the fun, creative things waiting for a fun, creative person to tackle.
Within it’s walls, there is only room for the valued things, the special things, the things we love. My bed is covered with a quilt my grandparents made just for me comprised of my two favorite colors; yellow and blue. If a grown woman can have a blankey, that would be mine. The tiny house’s close living quarters reminds me of the houses of days long gone, before the explosion of high priced real estate and out-doing the Jones’. It’s affordability combined with today’s modern conveniences; like a tank-less water heater, washer and dryer in one unit, and self contained heat pump are off to a good start in convincing me of the tiny house movement’s merit.
After giving it some of my own personality and artistic flare I will be ready to show some pictures of this cozy little pocket of living.