Woohoo, finally on the road. We cleared out the house, with a lot of assistance. A big thank you to the family and friends who offered to help, and showed up too! People who are generous with their time and labor are such a blessing.
We hoped to leave last Thursday, and missed the mark by three days. Good thing we didn’t have a plane to catch. I attribute the slow departure to basic stuff denial. Despite my “declutterfication” of the past several years I still have too much stuff. We donated at least 15 pickup truckloads. Some of our loved ones were kind enough to take stuff off our hands. I am still not sure if I should feel happy for them about the freebies or guilty for adding to their stuff burden.
Adventure comes with a price. Our old home, neighbors, loved ones, the view, and my work will all be missed. How to begin a 6000 mile adventure? Start with a plan, give stuff away, say farewell, and take a big leap of faith.
With a heart heavy, I said farewell to so many lovely lovely people on this, my last day of work on the east coast. The overriding message I received over the past couple days? So many people I know have adventure in their hearts and in their pasts. To be free and pursue adventure, we need to leave behind our security and stability. It represents a very big leap of faith.
Leaving my work is our biggest step toward freedom to date. Yesterday we sold our truck, tomorrow my convertible since 2006 goes on eBay. Letting go becomes a bit easier as we go along, though I know there are a few tough days ahead.
In another seven to 10 days we will let go of these breathtaking and ever-changing views, right outside our door. Next I anticipate some tough choices, when we learn definitively that everything we decided to keep will, in actuality fit inside that little RV. The focus will need to be the fun days ahead. Onward!
Time to get scanning! In the last move I ran out of time and dragged a bunch of boxes with papers, photos and old poetry along with us (real tears). I brought this delightful little scanner with us and promptly neglected to scan a single page, or TBH hardly opened a box since that time. So here I sit in a puddle of tears, in the exact same position I was in three years ago. Only now, space is even more dear, as we have to pay over $2 per pound to ship a box (then rent storage I guess) or fit it into our 27 foot RV.
On the positive side, this scanner is tiny and mighty. It’s fast and scans both sides of the paper simultaneously. It is easy to manage with my PC laptop. It fell in the move, from about four feet off the ground and works as good as new with a little black duct tape holding it all together. Seriously, name one thing that is better than duct tape. This was the third scanner we bought for this product, the others were slow and inaccurate. So scanner project, round two, wish me luck.
Right off the kitchen sits our one lonely closet. My spouse stores his clothes here, while mine reside mostly in three drawers and on a couple of hooks. The other day, I mentioned to Mom that we planned to move into the camper in the next week or so, once the furniture is sold. In response she asked, “But where will you put all your clothes?” I explained that the RV has a closet. Mom responded incredulously, “Yes, but where will all your other clothes go?” It gave me the giggles. I realized then that no one really knows just how much we’ve pared down. I confess we do have 3 small boxes (as defined by U-Haul) of winter coats, hats, gloves, sweaters and long sleeved shirts. I know the extra boxes likely sound excessive, but Honey shops in big and tall (yes that makes a difference). We must be vigilant about what we keep and what we purchase. Living in a four season climate represents a challenge to a minimalist lifestyle. We aspire to accomplish a one in one out rule… all in good time.
It’s hard to describe how itty bitty our sink is, it’s even a challenge to convey the size in a photo. If there is nothing to show the scale, the brain just assumes it’s an average size. My husband can only wash one of his bear claws in this basin at a time. This photo shows our sink with a fairly standard sized face cloth.
The question becomes what to do with the soap? A bar has no where to make purchase. Most soap dispensers look ludicrously out of proportion. If I set in on the windowsill the water and soap drip to the floor and collect on the sill. I’ve yet to find any miniature soap dispensers. The solution? A clear dispenser, of course! It’s just less visually obtrusive. I only wish the top was white or clear. See the before and after below. Thoughts? Suggestions?
This 1868 tiny house is not truly open concept, but we’ve found ways to increase the visual space and open it up a bit. During the first couple years in this tiny home, we had the living room and kitchen separated from each other with storage units. Then we removed those pantries to open it up and give visual space in both the kitchen and the living room. It’s the same reason we changed out the living room furniture. The rocking chair allows your eye to travel right through it, versus an arm chair that would close in the room. We justified the financial and ecological impact of “new” furniture by finding a great used furniture store. You can’t really see it here, but this sofa has a fairly slim profile, it replaced the chunky love seat we arrived with originally. We’ve given up wall shelves and pantries to take back the open spaces in the house. It meant parting with more treasures, but the resulting peacefulness is worth so it.