The Laundry Room Renovation

I live in a tiny house. Teeny tiny eeny weeny house. The bonus of this is that I can vaccuum the entire floor area without unplugging the hoover from one room to another. Another bonus is that the WIFI signal reaches powerfully into every room, and halfway across the yard, unlike at my parents’ house, where, during our Christmas visit, our bedroom was the only room in the house with zero WIFI signal, and the only place where I wanted to use the internet. A con to living in a teeny tiny house is not quite having enough space sometimes.

We came home after Christmas and Cowboy offered to make a start on the teeny tiny laundry room for me. This project has been poorly planned on my part. I ordered appliances in the Black Friday sales and got myself a stonking deal, but beyond that, I hadn’t quite figured out the finer details.

The set up that we had inherited from the previous owners was sketchy at best. It is a minuscule room. A top loading washer and a front loading dryer were installed along the long wall, in front of the window. On the opposite wall was a line of wall cabinets which came down just far enough to make it impossible to get into either the washer or the dryer without bending double and doing some funky gymnastics. I used to grab the laundry out of the dryer and have to reverse, with my head by my knees, arse first, out of the tiny gap beneath the cabinets, scattering socks and underwear as I went. It needed to change. It was absurd.

Cowboy was keen to get my appliances out of his shop, so he was eager to crack on, and crack on he did. Continue reading

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Coming up for air, and the power of Home

One of my tutors at massage school likes to include slides in her presentations that are pictures of soothing scenes, to remind us to breathe during class. As I sit here in the corner of Panera Bread, sipping on an iced tea, I have finally found a suitable pause in life, where I am reminded to breathe.

What a whirlwind it has been. Cowboy and I have moved into our new home, and I can finally spout off about how glorious it is. We are no longer on a busy corner – we are tucked away down a dead end street. The hills roll up behind the house, so our tiny little home feels safely nestled into the land. I can look out on our fields and garden from almost every window in the house. There are songbirds everywhere (while Sir Richard is corralled in the house, at least). When the sun was out over the weekend, and I could stand in the middle of the drive and feel totally at peace, I almost made a vow never to leave the place again.

I underestimated what home really meant. While we were renting, I pinned my sense of home on who I was with – whether living with friends in London and Brighton, or living with my parents, or finally moving in with Cowboy, and wherever he laid his hat was our home. I had a collection of items that came with me everywhere that I lived, and if I had those few things around me, I could make myself feel at home just about anywhere.

Then we signed the papers at the title company. Then we were given the keys. Then I stepped in though the old door into the tiny kitchen, and looked at it all. I felt the walls embrace me. I felt the floor press into my feet, lifting me up. I felt the roof folding over our heads, protecting us. That’s a lot of new age hokeyness for a British person to admit to. That’s a lot of hokey woowoo. But this is my Home now.

The house is old, dating back to the 1920s. (This is where everybody in Britain laughs, because that isn’t an old building. Heck, I grew up in a Victorian house that wasn’t even that old by some standards, and outdates this house by some 50 years. The village church where my parents live is from 10something. 1920s is laughable.) In America, this is an old house. It needs some care and time spent on it.  The windows and doors need sanding and repainting. There are a few leaks here and there. The lovely thing is that I don’t mind that this work needs doing. I am excited to spend time with this house, and to put my touch and energy into it. The back seat of my car is currently hosting several gallons of paint, ready to slap on the walls. I can finally unleash all of the tricks that I pretend I have learned from watching the home improvement channel.

One of the unexpected effects of finally being Home was how much better I sleep now. I wake up feeling truly rested and ready for the day. This is handy, given how much work I have to do over the next week. I will need every ounce of strength and energy that I have.

I’ll be sharing some of my home improvement projects here!