After we watched our tiny-house dream dissipate, we had to decide what we wanted to do upon waking from that dream. We talked about how we had enjoyed living in our small one-bedroom house even as we had spent the last several months rhapsodizing our joy that we’d leave behind the awkward kitchen and the creepy cave crickets that perpetually dwelled in the bathroom. We weren’t leaving behind those cave crickets though. Instead, we were faced with the decision of staying in our rental another year or doing something with that pile of cash we’d set aside for a down payment on our tiny house.
I distrust citrus. Instead, I fill the grocery cart with dark blueberries, ruby strawberries, pale green bananas, fuzzy brown kiwis, and pinkish red apples. Carrots or the odd orange bell pepper usually suffice for the splash of orange; limes are an occasional purchase for making Pad Thai or garnishing a well-deserved margarita. I have peeled too many oranges and enjoyed their sweet fragrance only to have a dehydrated husk of flesh revealed instead. I have likewise sliced into countless lemons, not to find a creamy yellow juicy interior, but a light brown catacomb. The bright yellow exterior, so reminiscent of sunshine and summer and sweetness, is a false advertisement.
Much to my mother and father’s mutual consternation, I was never very interested in clothes. I was much more interested in reading and traipsing about through the trees and the mud. These pursuits were fine when I was younger, but some kind of “on” switch was supposed to flip once I hit puberty. My parents seemed so sure that I would suddenly know how to coordinate colors and take a keen interest in accessorizing various outfits. These skills never quite materialized—nor did any ability to manage seemingly baffling equipment such as hair dryers, curling irons, and the various bottles of product accompanying them.
We made the trek out to Colorado Springs to tour the Cypress 24 Equator and meet with the Tumbleweed builders. After much deliberation, we had decided to buy a house premade rather than build it ourselves. Although it’s more cost to pay for Tumbleweed to build it, we decided it was the best choice for us. To build our own house, we’d realistically take at least two years to build the house because we do not have sufficient time (or space) to work on the house on a regular basis. Although Lee has two months off each year as a teacher, he’s limited to, at best, one weekend day a week the rest of the year, and I would be unable to help for those two months a year as well due to my job. We figured that we’d rather be putting money into our tiny house rather than paying rent and stressing about leaving our materials at a build site. It’s also nice to know that people with experience (as opposed to us) would be building a quality house for us. We’ve done a lot of the legwork for having a tiny house (found insurance, priced the loan out, found a place to park it, began downsizing), we just hadn’t actually toured one yet!