Two Weeks in the Tiny House

Ah, summer.  How we love thee.  I just returned from being "on holiday" as the Brits say in my remote cabin at Christina Lake, British Columbia.  It's my two weeks of true minimalism, workin' it in the Tiny House.  There, we get by with only what is necessary and usable.  And it helps me realize half the crap in my life is superfluous.  Maybe even 75 percent.  

Some background:  my grandparents bought the property the cabin sits on some 60 years ago.  It has undergone several transformations, most recently in 2012 after a fire brought the place down.  To its knees.  That tragedy brought about two revelations.  One, that material things really aren't what is important; two, my Daddy's fortitude and resilience rival that of the most decorated generals in history.   But that's another blog topic.  After my grandparents and my parents died, my sister and I took over ownership of the cabin, which I nicknamed The Phoenix. 

The cabin is now significantly more amenity-laden than it was in my youth, when we would haul water up the hill for dishes and drinking (it's on a real lake, y'all, not the man-made variety of Texas).  We used an outhouse and never gave that a second thought.  There was no phone and definitely no internet access.  We didn't even have electricity, as everything was powered by propane that we also hauled up the hill to hook up.  In Tiny House 4.0, we still have propane, but now it fuels a hot water heater that is connected to the shower in the bath house/potty just a few steps from the main cabin. Such luxury! 

We are also blessed with electric light and power outlets, although we have to produce our own juice with solar panels and an occasional boost from the gas powered generator.   All this combined with no road access - you can find us only by boat from the marina across the lake - makes for a rustic retreat.  We have two bedrooms (large by tiny house standards!) and the other room combines the kitchen, eating area, and game playing/reading/napping futon.  It's truly perfect.  

I can function pretty well with no microwave (there are stove top directions on packages people actually use?) and no Netflix.  Verizon actually made things a bit easier permitting me to use data now at less than astronomical fees.  But no wi-fi.  If there is yet another mass shooting, I am days away from hearing about it.  A definite added benefit.  

I plan meals with more efficiency and efficacy because fridge and freezer space is at a premium.  There isn't a fast food joint for miles, and in Canada that shit is cost-prohibitive. You just don't drop $40 for your family of four for a bag of crap.  I spend time after dinner doing dishes by hand, although they dry quite nicely in the arid cool evenings.  In the morning I patiently brew my camp coffee on the stove, as the electric coffee maker sucks the life out of your stored power born of yesterday's sun.  So I percolate it - an eternity for us impatient caffeine-starved pot watchers.  

I don't miss my crap collections (of which I have few given my minimalist leanings).  I don't miss a closet fuller than the one in the cabin.  I don't miss having two living areas to sit in, as my butt only occupies one place at a time anyway.  I don't miss more glassware than I need, or a bunch of books I have already read.  if there is excess, we burn it,  because it costs money to dump garbage as there is no routine trash pick up.  We pay for gas and propane as we use it, and pray to the sun gods for the rest of our utilities. Off grid, indeed.  

I love the Tiny House.  It is nice to return to the land of water you don't have to hook up your self.  But during my two week holiday,  I like to prove to myself I can do it and that I don't need so many trappings I am used to enjoying.   The scenery is gorgeous as well, so when you grow weary of the family crowding the tiny house, you can retire to the deck to take in the majesty.   Minimalist Mecca.  Enjoy The Phoenix.