Disclaimer: I’m way too hungover to blog about the last three days in sports and fantasy football. It would be a long/involved post. I feel nauseous when I think about writing all of that. This is all you get today. Blame the Pirates ❤ (I still don’t think this has totally sunk in yet, by the way. However, if you don’t count blackout drunk hours as life hours, I’ve really only had like six hours to process this so far.)
Re-reading Walden was the worst thing that has ever happened to my sanity. The whole environmentally/ethically conscious thing is a really slippery slope. Flexitarianism is working out really well so I’m more than enthusiastic about making other positive lifestyle changes.
I really feel like this particular tiny house obsession was situationally created by the fact that I feel like biggest asshole for just having purchased a pair of mirror aviator sunglasses… They make me look like a ginger version of this (but with a better face and better clothes/hair):
I put them on and I’m like “I AM SO COOL, but in a douchebag way. And I also look like the bad guy in Cool Hand Luke.” (No, but seriously, I’m the baddest boss bitch in them and they’re awesome)
In life, there needs to be balance though, so I’ve found this tiny house thing to mentally attach my hopes and dreams to right now. I just want to live simply and grow a lot of my own food and not have a lot of fancy possessions. I’ve kind of always wanted that though. These sunglasses are a fluke. Maybe. I also really want the iPhone 5c. I don’t even know who I am anymore.
Anyway, you can either get one that’s mobile or you can get one that’s permanent. I’m all about the permanent variety. Anything that you can tow with a truck is too small for me to consider as actual daily living space. I would love to live my life on the road, but not like that.
Tumbleweed Houses seems to have the most popular options for permanent establishments. I’m basically IN LOVE with the Whidbey plan. 557 square feet plus loft space. I would totally do the two small lofts instead of one big loft and have an open kitchen/dining/living area.
Thanks to a solid run yesterday, I have now found the lot I would buy in my neighborhood if I was going to build this house. Then I came home and got the lot square footage from Zillow, mathed the dimensions via Google Maps, and priced solar panels for the self-sustainable part. Then I mentally picked out a paint color for the sides and door of the house, placed all my current and future furniture in the layout, decorated the interior, and planned where my driveway, carport, and garden would go.
Provided that New Orleans doesn’t have a stupid thing about square footage in their building code or that my house meets the minimum standard if they do, this is happening at some point.
It would be the ultimate bachelorette pad and my dog would have ample space for play time. The front room would be my office. The back room would have access to the outside and be my laundry/sewing room and also probably be where I kept all the shit that I canned since the kitchen doesn’t really have a ton of space. One loft would be my bedroom. The other loft would be my closet. DREAM LIFE.
I’m reverting back to the period of my life – circa 1995, probably – when I wanted to be an architect and drew nothing but dream houses (and three story dream treehouses with kitchens and bedrooms for all my friends) for approximately a year. Somewhere, there are notebooks full of floor plans done by an eight year old. I don’t actually draw the floor plans anymore. I just find other people’s and mentally accessorize them and then imagine what my life would be like in them. I’m crazy… actually crazy.
Add this tiny house thing to the list of pipe dreams. I do have a pretty high pipe dream realization rate, though. At least 50% of this shit comes true eventually at some point.