So I totally bristle when people say, “Oh, you’re a teacher? So lucky you get summers off!” And I bristle because I will spend an inordinate amount of time planning and preparing for the next school year.
Yes, I am lucky and I know it because today I did nothing but laundry and binge watch HGTV Tiny House Hunters.
At first I thought it was a show about vertically challenged people trying to find 24 inch tall countertops, but that would be weird, and, frankly, kind of exploitative. (Apparently syntax isn’t a pressing issue for the producers)
Yet after watching a few (ok several) (ok several hours) I came to some conclusions.
There are four types of people on this show:
1. The young, single (almost always a woman) who wants to get a house but not pay a lot. Usually this ends up to be a millennial who can’t understand why a dishwasher doesn’t come standard and complains that there’s no washer and dryer. She also doesn’t know where she’s going to put all of her stuff. And when I say “stuff” I mean her bag of entitlement.
2. The young millennial couple who are “minimalist” and don’t want to bow to the man and have a mortgage. They want to travel the world and “experience life” instead of being tied down and are either ski instructors or artists or unemployed with a lot of college debt. These are also the couples who wear North Face, Columbia and different Merrell boots for each showing. They are totally showing “the man.”
3. The older couple who wants to downsize and make things easier and possibly travel in their new homes. These are the ones who will least likely end up in their parents’ basement and/ or divorced after a year in the tiny home.
4. Finally, there are the totally batshit crazy ones. These are the couples who want to move themselves and their four kids from a 3000 square foot home into a one bedroom, one bath, 280 square foot home. Apparently squalor is the new cool.
Now, along with wanting a follow up “where are they now” show to see whether or not these people actually make it in homes so small they would turn off a Manhattan apartment seeker, or if they are just a passing fad– like spiral perms– I came to a decision.
I want a tiny home.
In my backyard of course, and just for me. No composting toilet or solar shower though. My desired features would be limited. TV with no Disney channel or SpongeBob episodes, or any Disney movies except for the cool ones (Zootopia). Furniture that doesn’t hide a Cheez It box worth of crumbs or half drunk Capri Sun pouches. A place where words like “Mom” are banned. It would feature my cats and my dog and provide refuge from human contact when it’s just too much for me to handle.
And of course, a rack to fit 20 different types of vodka.
This would be my escape, my tranquility, my happy place.
But the tiny home doesn’t come with a tiny cost, and I’m guessing my HOA wouldn’t approve.
So for now I’ll have to stick to the old standby– locking the bathroom door and running the shower until the hot water runs out.
And keep the vodka in the medicine cabinet.