The greatest lesson I’ve learned living the tiny life is flexibility. Being as flexible as possible is incredibly important. If you are not one to adapt to new situations readily then seriously consider living this life (as pictured left). Our lives since living tiny is a perfect example.
About a month ago Cedric and I found out that our neighbors were planning to rent their house, and subsequently the land we were on, to move out west. They offered to let us stay and work things out with the new tenants but we decided that we’d rather not deal with a rental situation with folks we didn’t know and the owners living 3000 miles away. Thus, once again, we found ourselves moving the tiny house. This is the third time we’ve moved the house in just over a year. It is truly the constant dilemma of living the tiny life…land. We rent because we don’t have the resources to buy in the area we live in. A friend of ours in Charleston recently asked me about the realities of living downtown in a tiny house and I warned him that he wouldn’t get away with it for more than a year and that was if he lives in a seedier part of town. Anywhere else and the town officials would be swarming in no time. His best bet-buy a property that he can rent out and live in a tiny house in the backyard. More and more I see that option as the least stressful way to live the tiny life.
We are currently facing the issue of zoning in a small, rural town in Vermont. I have to go and speak to the zoning administrator this week because the owner of the farm where we have moved wants to make sure we do things by the books. Talk about eye twitching stress! We totally understand this, considering she has a working organic farm, a solid place in her community and 4 children to feed and doesn’t want to sneak around behind the town’s back but it certainly won’t make things easier for us. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is connected in this town. There is no where to hide even if we wanted to. When we lived in the city, anonymity was key to our being able to live in our home but out here in the country, it’s probably not the best policy. Stepping on toes is not advised. It’s the kind of place where nobody’s business is kept secret for long. Thus, by tomorrow morning I won’t be surprised if they town clerk is called and made aware of our presence. And I’m terrified. Cedric and I have read through the zoning lingo on the town’s website and our home just doesn’t fit in. There is no provision for a tiny house on wheels. It’s part of the beauty, but also the seemingly constant stress, of living in these houses. We can’t even unpack our things until we find out if we’ll be allowed to stay on this land and it’s making life that much harder.
Never have we wanted to stay someplace so badly. It’s a gorgeous property with orchards, sheep, chickens, a private swimming hole, gardens everywhere and an amazing view of the mountains. That hardest part is trying not to get attached because come Tuesday, when the zoning admin is in office, we may have to pick up and move again. To keep running around and hiding isn’t realistic but it certainly seems our only option. Until tiny houses are excepted in the the laws that govern building and development, I fear we’ll just keep packing up or finally cave in and enter in a real estate market that we can’t afford.
- What do you think is the best option: being open with town officials or keeping a low-profile?