Big House vs. Small House vs. Tiny House

I was chatting with a couple friends in the lobby area after church yesterday when one of them mentioned they were in the process of trying to sell their house. Thus began a conversation about lack of space (this family also has four children and two dogs), sleeping in makeshift spaces, children someday moving out (and moving back in) and all the reasons to live in a house bigger than what one currently has.

I found out that this family of similar size was living in a house with over 50% more square feet of living space than ours. The other friend in on the conversation (five kids, one dog) lives in nearly twice the living space as we do. They were both bemoaning their lack of space. I understand, and have nothing to say in opposition to their complaints, yet my stomach started its usual lurching as the talk continued. I always get to this point and start thinking about our small home, our lack of dining room, second shower, storage space, family room, bedrooms . . . I can throw a regular pity party on this subject, though we surely could just put our house on this extremely soft market and try to find larger digs. It could certainly be done, and summer would be the time to have done it.

Then I think about all the stresses of moving, having just watched two very close friends go through it all in the past few months. I just don't do stressful things very gracefully. I'm already on medication for chronic, low- to mid-level depression. I take care of our finances and am prone to worry, seeing way too many details and noting them all, over and over, each night while trying to fall asleep. I know I could survive a move if I had to, but do I want to put myself through that?

Then there's the mortgage rates. Our current tiny mortgage is at 4.85%. I am so proud of that. I don't want to touch that.

There is my own folktale theory that, at this point, wanting to avoid physical and emotional pain, I begin to apply strenuously to our situation. I call it the It Could Always Be Worse: A Yiddish Folk Tale by Margot Zemach lesson. (See link: http://www.amazon.com/Could-Always-Be-Worse-Yiddish/dp/0374436363)

The story opens thus: "Once upon a time in a small village a poor unfortunate man lived with his mother, his wife, and his six children in a little one-room hut. Because they were so crowded, the man and his wife often argued. The children were noisy, and they fought. In winter, when the nights were long and the days were cold, life was especially hard. The hut was full of crying and quarrelling. One day, when the poor unfortunate man couldn't stand it any more, he ran to the Rabbi for advice."

The Rabbi listens and advises the man, over several sessions, to bring more and more into his house, including loud, messy animals. Day by day the house becomes more and more crowded, messy and noisy. Finally, the Rabbi tells the man to take everything out that he had added to his hut. The man is left with his mother, his wife and his six children. He experiences peace. Love that.

So I become motivated once more to clean out the closets, basement and garage, donating to worthy charities and friends in need and simply tossing a good amount of junk. I go to the library and reread a book on simplifying your life. Then I visit one of my favorite home design websites to make myself feel like I already possess a ginormous estate: Tumbleweed Tiny House Company, specializing in homes "smaller than some people's closets." (See http://www.tumbleweedhouses.com/houses.htm)

I remind myself of my smaller footprint on this already crowded planet, my little electric bill, and how quickly I can actually clean this place, were I actually to clean this place. As long as I can maintain my attitude of thankfulness and peace concerning my own home, and as long as I can get completely away from it a few times a year, I realize really how good we have it.