After a recent conversation with my husband, I realized that our tiny house is the bastard child of these two very different dreams. Built on wheels, with a traditional facade and an interior with bits of modern design, the house is a confused byproduct of two goals and two lifestyles — and a symbol of my fragmented self.
Living tiny has been a learning experience so far: in some ways, it’s exactly what I expected, but I’ve also been quite surprised by what each day brings — and what I continue to learn about myself, my preferences, and my limitations. Paring down and navigating in such a small space — 131 square feet — has reset me and pushed me to think about what I truly need and want. I’ve never experienced such a blank slate before, from which I can design and experiment with a different routine.
Our tiny house is nearly finished, so I wanted to share a preliminary tour. It’s been a year-and-a-half since I first wrote about moving out of San Francisco, wanting to make changes in my life, and moving toward living in a smaller, simpler space.
Our tiny house, at 131 square feet, will simply be the innermost core of our world.
On Google Street View
We trace a map to our dreams
Along country roads
Trying a location on for size in our tiny house on wheels.
Thoughts on tiny living and towing while waiting at the DMV.
Longing for a front porch, a space blending public and private.
On home, space, and the accumulation of stuff.