Think Big, Live Tiny - Part 7
You want me to do what?
The week following my spontaneous outburst, I have a meeting with Johanna and Barrie, to sign contracts and start the process. We sit across from each other in their living room, and Barrie extends an ordinary 8 ½ X 11 sheet of white paper, with a large rectangle drawn to scale on it, in my direction. We had already discussed that, for several reasons, my home would be 8 ½ feet wide by 17 feet long, anything bigger would add cost and complications.
“Use this to design your home.” She says with an engaging smile, wiggling the paper at me.
“Umm, what do you mean, design my home?” I say slowly, buying time. I haven’t taken it from her yet, the unspoken commitment that would imply, feels so much bigger than the ordinary piece of white copy paper, now drooping limply from her hand.
“You know, draw a rough layout. What do you envision your home looking like?” She is rallying her vast array of people skills to keep the conversation light, and pretend I haven’t just energetically started slowly backing towards the door.
My eyes are fixed on the innocuous rectangle in the middle of the paper. Building a new house is something I have always dreamed of. I have owned several houses in my life, but have never built anything new. In that dream I was looking at blueprints, already drawn up by someone who knew what they were doing. Too much freedom is sometimes a scary thing. I have only one parameter to rein me in, a rectangular box.
I slowly reach for the paper. “Ok, let me see what I can come up with.” Damn, I started my own massage school from scratch, didn’t I? Pull up your big girl panties, Angela. You’ve got this! With the paper now in my hands, I look down at it blankly.
“Alright, we’ve drawn up the paperwork, let’s all sign this so that we can get started…” Barrie’s beautiful face lights up with a big smile. The hand-off is complete, we’re moving on. I set the sheet of white paper, and all that it signifies, down on the table to concentrate on another aspect of this journey I have given little thought to. Dreamers ground themselves into reality only when backed into a corner.
The following morning I take my procrastinating little butt down to one of my special places, where big decisions are made, Kealakekua Bay. I sit on the rocks and stare at the rectangle on the blank sheet of paper attached to a clipboard on my lap. I have temporarily pushed aside my fears and insecurities about this daunting task.
Ok, so what are my Big Picture requirements?
1. A queen-size bed is non-negotiable. And it can’t be in a loft with a ladder, as my dog MacKenzie sleeps with me. She’s a medium-sized, very athletic terrier who’s a rock star in her agility classes, but even she is not agile enough to climb a ladder. There are now some fabulous designs, that I secretly covet, with built-in steps leading to a loft, that have storage space underneath them. But we are just ahead of the popularity curve for Tiny Homes and most designs are still pretty basic.
2. Give me a real kitchen and I can live anywhere. I will need a small apartment-size stove, and a proper refrigerator with a separate freezer, preferably self-defrosting. How small do they make those? And how will that work off the grid? Questions for another day. I remind myself that I’m brainstorming, and not to get lost in the details. Today is big picture day. I envision an L-shaped countertop, with two full sinks to round out this ‘room’.
3. There will be no bathroom in the house. It will take up too much room and I don’t fancy a composting toilet mere feet from where I will be preparing my meals. Is that the cabbage I smell or…? Hell no! The perfect place for a composting toilet is OUTSIDE, in its’ own little house.
4. I love taking outdoor showers, so that decision is a no-brainer. I will find a place on the side of the house for that. Taking the bathroom out of the equation opens up the space for the bed to be downstairs.
5. A large lanai is another non-negotiable when you live in Hawai’i – that is also a plan for another day. And I will put a hand washing sink in the corner of that, to complete my bathroom. A kitchen sink just doesn’t feel like the ideal place to wash hands after using the loo.
I love lists, and the illusion of organization and security they give me. The next task: to cram all of this into 146 square feet – now that will take some imagination and a crowbar.
The eventual outhouse, modeled by my two of my adorable grandchildren.
