Moved In

Moved in.

I am literally walking around boxes.

Each step is a landmine. I keep repeating to myself, Everything will have its place. It has to, it’s a Tiny House.

But it is mine.

The scenario . . . 15’ x 15’, 225 square feet, with a loft bed area 15’ x not quite 4’. Expenses still being tabulated but somewhere just south of 10K to get it up to rustic cabin status. No running water—more about this later—a composting toilet with shower facilities next door in main house. The most expensive thing so far was the mini split heating/AC unit, which at the time I thought I’d never need that many BTUs, but these past couple of days have been raw, rainy, and blustery, the kind of weather that once out in it you think, I can’t wait to get inside with a cup of tea/coffee/hot chocolate and wrap my cold hands around a warm mug. So, yeah, I’m appreciating the efficient heat. At first I worried (as I worry about most stupid things I have no control over, the very essence of what worry is) when it runs it is costing me electricity. But, then I settled myself by saying the refrigerator is always on and no one ever grumbles about that, this type of heat is just as calculated and efficient. I only keep it at 62 and my place is relatively toasty, with a few cold spots, and it is right now with wind chill at slightly above freezing 32F/0 C.

I bought it for the long winter days of 23 degrees and colder that are coming, for when frost burns the inside and outside of the windows.

About the baby. He wants to touch EVERYTHING. Of course, the place is a landmine of breakable, semi-sorted piles. Imagine boxes of frames on the floor, glass trinkets unwrapped but still needing to find a home, all the stuff one has collected crying out for a corner on a shelf.

But that shelf still needs to be built or installed or, as is now the case as we’re winding our way through the piles and spilling boxes, reconfigured into the scenario. The scenario is ever changing as one idea is replaced by another idea for how to make things work. We’re down to the last stubborn puzzle pieces where every angle is tested, trying to make sense of the space. The limited space.

There’s always some new discovery that emerges such as underneath that ottoman is an inch for the cross stitch boxes containing my myriads of floss, or behind the toilet there’s room for household cleaning products. Again, my mantra:

Everything will have its place.

My daughter said, Did you take before pictures? No, but consider these before as there is still chaos

coming into unit

scanning clockwise

I'm hopeful these are all before because I want there to be an after, so that I can begin to walk freely about the place and not have to cringe when the baby comes by.

More pics to come!