A few discussions on a couple of other tiny house threads led me to a profound thought this morning (don’t laugh, it happens).

Many people who don’t live tiny consider it camping!

That realization clears a lot of visitor re24796365_928293773989556_2920786680203566308_naction up for me. Yes, I have a place to store stuff, do laundry and sometimes shower in, but I live in my tiny house. I love it. It’s not inconvenient or uncomfortable. I sleep, work, read, sew, watch TV and sometimes cook in my tiny house (we eat out alot). When I’m not traveling or having visitors, I leave the piano bed down. The only real reason for the “big house” is I have a 14 year old who is NOT on board with tiny living and we need an address in a good school district for her. Plus the laundry thing is a bonus.

But back to my point- it’s not camping. I have never felt more at home than I am in this house, no matter where it’s parked. I’m not sure when other tiny housers got that “home” jolt: I remember exactly when mine happened, and it was way before my house was livable and at the time I was camping.

I’m not camping anymore.  This is home.




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