Living Small

I know that this has become a trendy topic since the economy flushed itself, but I've always been fascinated with the "Living Small" movement. The Devil Queen is the largest home I've ever lived in with its 1850 square feet. You know what? Even with a family of three, it was more than I ever needed or could use.

I saw this little story on CNN today:

"João Pessoa, Brazil

I have lived in a 25-foot sailboat, a 28-foot motor home, a 32-foot sailboat, and now an 800 sq ft apartment. I was happiest with the 25-foot sailboat.

When you have a lot of "stuff" it owns you. You have to care for it, worry about it being lost, stolen, or destroyed, insure it, and maintain it.

When I had very little, I was free to do as I pleased every day. I had a car and could take off to visit friends and relatives whenever I wanted. Being on a boat, if I wanted to sail away for a day or a month, there was nothing to stop me. "



And then there are the folks at Tiny Tumbleweed Houses. Here is another CNN story featuring them. While I'm all for smaller, I think I'd like more than 100 square feet even it was just me living there. Personally, I like the Enesti with it's 681 to 774 square feet depending on the version. Too bad they don't have a version with higher ceilings. I love the Devil Queen's 12 foot ceilings, and while I'd like less floor space, I'd miss those airy heights.

So, has the whole home improvement experience gotten anyone else day dreaming about living in a shoe box?

The Monolith That Towers Over Me

Bigger is not always better. And, it doesn’t matter how you use. If you can’t get the damn thing through the doorway, it’s no use to you at all. Trimming it with a chain saw just doesn’t seem right. Power tools are just not the cure-all you’d like them to be.



Here is our beautiful beast.

It takes three grown men to move it and it won’t fit through one interior doorway in the house. It’s two inches too much, so it has to go. Anyone want an armoire? Come with $800 and a truck and it is yours. We’ll even help you load it.

Otherwise, it’s going to the antique store in Atkins, forever. Once it’s gone, we can refinish the hall floor too. I hope.

A Rock To Wind A String Around

Here is one of the main reasons why decrapification has been such a life-sucking ordeal.

That is right. That is a rock wrapped in string because everybody wants a rock to wrap a piece of string around. And, I’ve had it for about 10 years because I’m hopelessly sentimental. A good-looking woman gave this to me in college and I’ve had it ever since. If I still have this, a rock given as a joke, imagine what else I am hanging on to after 30 some-odd years.

Decrapification Equals $73.45

That's right boys and girls! Once the cleaning starts, the money pours in by the fistful!

Last night I went to Lowe's and returned three sacks full of unused, unloved, and unwanted plumbing supplies. And, having learned from our encounter with Ms. I-flushed-my-brain, Lowe's resident demon of the return desk, I took the unusual precaution of washing all of my returns. That is right, I washed them.

Filling the kitchen sink with hot water and gently washing all the dust and dirt off thirty or forty PVC and CPVC fittings is an odd experience. You have to be extra careful to not get the stick-on price tags too wet so they don't fall off or bleed, but I did it. Then, they were all carefully dried and bagged.

I didn't have any trouble with my returns. They wouldn't take two items because they weren't from Lowe's (fair enough, right?), but I'm okay with that since they gave me $73.45 for everything else.

I can't wait to see what else I can find to return.

Decrapification Continues

I won't bore you with the details. Another night of excavating, another five bags of trash hauled to the curb. For those of you who don't live to tally the amount of trash generated by the Devil Queen and her occupants, that is nine bags of trash in two weeks.

Aside from reclaiming all of this long submerged square footage as actual living space, this has been a profitable endeavor. Literally. Last night while sorting through a stack of old papers, Christmas and birthday cards from years past, and whatever else it is crazy people collect, I found a crisp, clean fifty dollar bill. I'm guessing this was a gift that we lost track of one year. Nice.

If you calculate out how many hours it took me to find this, I'm still not making minimum wage but what the hell. It's enough to buy Christmas dinner for everyone which is good enough for me.

At some point, I just had to wonder what year it was that I went shit-bat-crazy and decided to keep this stuff. The construction material is the worst at this point: tin cans full of bent, rusty nails; broken light fixtures; four inch bits of PVC plumbing; and, my current favorite, little coils of old, filthy wires. I mean you never know when you might want to wire a whole electrical circuit with thirty or forty 12-to-18 inch bits spliced together. Bring on the roaches, the nukes, and the whole Jesus-in-sky apocalypse! We are ready! We'll save Western Civilization in all its glory with a box of old wiring and tin of rusty nails. Don't mess with us, we're obviously ready for anything. Except refinishing the floors.