We've been living full time in this sweet, little house for four years now. Life here just keeps getting better as we fine-tune anything that hasn't worked quite as planned (like the stove pipe, a rock wall or two, the solar panel location, frozen pipes...and all the rest).

​To honor the occasion of our four-year anniversary, we thought we'd answer some of the questions we often get asked:

Do you miss all the things you got rid of when downsizing?
No.

Has the novelty of living in a tiny house worn off?
Sure. But that's a good thing. Now, it seems so natural to live in a house this size, that we don't give it a thought most of the time. There are couple exceptions. When we have more than six people over, we have to give logistics some thought. Is it nice enough to eat on the porch? Could we set up more chairs on the deck? And when we want someone to spend the night, we do wish we had a guest room. (Hopefully, coming soon in the form of a "shed.")

​Don't you get on one another's nerves living in such a small space?
Short answer: No

​Longer answer: Though our house is only 250-square feet, it's divided up just enough that one of us can be sleeping in the "bedroom," while the other is working online in the "living room" or starting the coffee in the "kitchen."

In addition, we have a 400-square-foot deck that wraps around the house, with rocking chairs great for reading on one side of the house and a table and chairs on another side—perfect as a work space or for alfresco dining on a nice day. In addition to that, we have a 160-square-foot "screen house" (a free-standing screen porch), with room for dining, cooking, reading, and/or socializing. At this moment, I am in the main house working on this blog, while Bill is in the screen house enjoying a beer and a movie. We have plexiglass panels that we put up on the screen house so that we can use it most of the year.

On top of all that, we spend a good deal of our time in the Great Outdoors: gardening, working on projects (shed to come), walking, biking, volunteering and more.
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​Do you think everyone should live in a tiny house?
No, but we do believe everyone, including us, should be investigating how to live more sustainably. How many resources are we consuming? How can we reduce our carbon footprint? How can we be reasonable stewards on this planet?

Do you want to build tiny houses for other people?
Nope. Though we don't want to go into business building houses, we do love to talk to people about their plans and help them, in any way we can, achieve their tiny house dreams.

Knowing what you know now, would you still design and build your house yourselves?
Yes. (But we would want to be our younger selves doing that!)

What's something you love best about your house?
The eleven windows and three glass doors!
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​What's something you would change about your house?
The bathroom door. It drives people crazy. Our "great" design for our sliding door has caused panic in more than one guest who believes they are trapped in the bathroom. We talk about changing it, but here we are four years later with the same squeaky, awkward door—alas.

The subject came up recently: chores. Those things you need to do to keep a household running.

We used to procrastinate housecleaning in our big, suburban houses until we couldn't stand the state of affairs. Procrastinating only meant the mess would be harder to clean down the road. It also meant magnifying our so-called "suffering": We were worrying about it before we did the work; we were annoyed by the magnitude of the mess by the time we got around to doing something; and, instead of feeling satisfied with any chores completed, we found ourselves dreading the next time we'd have to do them. 

When we sold our last "big" house, many of the chores disappeared or at least shrunk. We tried out a succession of smaller living spaces and found the time required to get through everything was abbreviated simply because there weren't as many rooms. Now, in our smallest living space to date, the time has shrunk proportionally again. In 15 minutes, one of us can do a moderate clean (vacuuming, wiping down windowsills and baseboards, wiping out the sinks, picking up and putting away stray items...).

It's not a big time or energy commitment, and, as a result, we clean more often. We have a lightweight, cordless vacuum that I can honestly say I enjoy pushing around the place just about every day. (We track in a lot of dirt here.) We wander around happily picking up sticks, because we know that chore promises a warm blaze in the house, a meal cooked on the grill or a campfire under the stars. We take turns watering the herbs on the deck, because we both enjoy tending to them.

Before enlightenment chop wood, carry water. 
After enlightenment chop wood, carry water. 

The Zen wisdom comes to mind. Because I no longer watch the clock like I used to and because I no longer spend my days wishing I were somewhere else, I am more present in my own life. I get satisfaction from some of the same chores I used to procrastinate. Plus, I have new chores in this new way of living—but I don't resent them, either. Rather than putting it off, I like the trip down to dump food scraps in the compost pile; I get a minute to look around the garden and see if any butterflies have found the milkweed. When I walk up a path through the woods to empty the composting toilet bucket, I look for animal tracks, I pull an invasive plant or two, I listen to birds. 

Sure, it helps (a lot) that there's less housecleaning to do in a tiny house and that we have more time to do it. But there are less chores and more time because we've chosen to live this way. Clarifying how we want to live helps everyday chores take on meaning. They are part of this new life we're living intentionally.