The house is nearly complete. Now we’re at the stage where I can chill out a little bit. Sure – there are still hurdles to hop. It’s not quite time to bury the saws – but we’re living in a tiny house.
I put up a bunch more cheap trim around stuff. It’s starting to look more finished. Kristin started painting some of the trim, and it’s starting to look great. I have barely a clue how to design and organize a space for living. I know a tiny house requires lots and lots of storage, so I’m just jamming in as many storage ideas as possible.
For the walls and roof – and windows and door and loft – I had a plan. I had measurements for every two-by-four and screw. Now I have no further direction. I didn’t make a 3-D model of interior details. These details all depend on what materials I can find for the smallest amount of money and what I’m able to find or hack together. This approach requires an open mind.
Organizing my tiny house interior demands a delicate balance, because I lack everything but an imagination. I don’t have much money or skill. My brain over-engineers at every opportunity. With no experience building tiny houses, I find myself reverting to my typical ways – I overthink every detail and take forever to get anything done. My mind is a thousand train cars with no engine.
I have a legal pad with about 60 half-ideas spanning several pages. I need a bookshelf here; another outlet there… plenty of work to be done. But all is well. We’re cooking and cleaning and making coffee down in the tiny house. I haven’t been up to the big house too much in the past week. There will be an ongoing battle with simplification and getting rid of stuff that doesn’t fit – either physically or in a metaphorical sense. But there is sunshine on the horizon.
Me? I’m ready to do anything else. I want a totally different project. Building this house was hard as hell. It still is hard, but now I’m trying again to pace myself – or more accurately, to accept my naturally slower pace. I’m fighting to rationalize my brain from feeling too worried, hurried, or buried. I’m channelling my 17-year-old self, who was a genius. That guy reminds me: don’t take anything too seriously. If you’re not happy, then you’re taking something too seriously. Broken down to its simplest elements, yes – my life is exactly that black and white.