Showing posts with label living small. Show all posts
Showing posts with label living small. Show all posts

Saturday, December 6, 2014

LIVING SMALL: THE JUST ENOUGH CHRISTMAS

St. Helena, CA


Christmas is a great opportunity to put some serious jolly into our little cottage, but with our commitment to staying small and living clutter-free, we wanted to get just enough to be merry and bright without accumulating a bunch of stuff that had to be stored for 11/12 of the time.

The solution: Get small. Here's how the whole show -- on a placemat:


Three boxes of miniature ornaments, two boxes of lights, two boxes of candy canes, two pairs of Christmas socks and one Santa hat. Now add one tree.


Clothespins and gift bags for Chip's advent calendar.
And then a serious wrapping party. Santa has to get to work early when his kids live in foreign countries. Christmas socks for everyone!



TODAY, I'm grateful for holiday cheer and wrapping love in boxes.

Thursday, November 27, 2014

LIVING SMALL: THE JUST ENOUGH THANKSGIVING

St. Helena, CA


Every holiday calls for its own festive decor, but that decor doesn't have to come from a store. In the interest of living small and shrinking our footprint, we made tracks -- and collected our own centerpiece.

I threw the turkey in the oven and off we went to meander the streets of St. Helena, enjoying the crisp fall day and foraging for flowers, leaves and berries.

Put it all together...


... and just add wine!


Picture perfect.



TODAY I'm grateful for Napa bounty.


Friday, October 10, 2014

LIVING SMALL: THE JUST ENOUGH LIVING ROOM

St. Helena, CA


After living for four years onboard our beautiful Cara Mia, with all her warm teak and built-in furniture, setting up camp on land has been more challenging than I anticipated. Our tiny, 512-square-foot house seems so cavernous, echo-y and stark white.

We don't want to own a lot of stuff, but we want to be comfortable. When we moved in, we made a commitment to living small, an exploration of the foggy space between stark and too much.

What is the minimum requirement for living comfortably? Is clutter a human condition? Is it possible to live small, to avoid the escalation game?

In this Living Small experiment, I've listed the contents of the bedroom, kitchen and bathroom, but the living room hadn't reached that heady space of just enough. We were lacking a table.

Our tiny space called for a flexible table, small enough to be inconspicuous, but big enough to seat four in anticipation of all the new friends who will grace it. That flexible table also had to serve as my desk by day and our dinner table by night. A contracted search for a vintage drop-leaf table tried my patience, so after five months of going table-less, IKEA came to the rescue. I thought I'd outgrown IKEA, but that's just one more of life's happy surprises.


This beaut has the perfect dimensions and blends right in with our gold/black/red motif.

Here's how we ended up:

Couch
Trunk/coffee table
Rug
2 barstools
1 table
2 chairs
2 posters
1 lamp



Voila! A tiny room with two spaces to eat and work, room to entertain and lounge in comfort.

We might be one comfy chair short, but stay tuned. For now, I'm calling it just enough.


And now the real challenge: NO MORE STUFF!

Today, I'm grateful for: a table and pumpkins.


Wednesday, October 8, 2014

LIVING SMALL: THE DOWNSIZING DILEMMA

St. Helena, CA


Those who have been with us (suffered with us?) since the early days will remember our extreme downsizing effort. In 2008, our challenge was to liquidate a four-bedroom house, two cars, a thriving wine shop and the ridiculous amount of stuff that filled them all up. By October 2010, we had ridded ourselves of the whole kit and the caboodle too, sailing away with what fit in a 38' boat.

Now, four years hence, I've made a bit of a cottage industry out of writing about my experiences.

In an article for Gannett's NowU.com, I talk about the weighty emotional toll of getting rid of all my stuff and offer retroactive advice to myself about how it might have been easier:

8 Steps to Free Your Home (and Life) of Clutter

There's always a back story, and in my case, it comes in the form of blog posts. In the article, I mention the measuring cup that made me cry and the bird's nest that held a hidden message about my own safety at sea. Now you can read the rest of the story.

Part two of the series details the actual nuts and bolts of how we disposed of all our stuff:

Secrets to Gifting and Listing All You Stuff

I mention frantically searching for a box to ship my office chair, and here's the whole hilarious story. Then there's the time I listed all our furniture on Craigslist, not expecting people to show up the same day to pick it up. And our poorly timed first yard sale on the hottest day of the summer and the second.

Those were intense days, full of hard labor and heavy dreaming. But oh how I love a story with a happy ending.

Leaving Manteo at sunrise, October 2010.

Monday, June 9, 2014

LIVING SMALL: A NEW BIKE!!!

St. Helena, CA


Our culture has some collective soft spot for bicycles. I guess it brings back all those warm memories from childhood, that first little burst of freedom and independence. Walking through Walmart pushing that little blue beauty felt like being in a Huffy ad. People were smiling, nodding, giving me the thumbs up.

"See you on the road," one guy called as I was wheeling it out.

In our pre-sailing life, we would have bought a second car, but we're still wallowing in the luxury of having just one. But since Chip's working at Silver Oak five or six days a week -- with the car -- he bought me a bike with his tip money. Lucky me!

And now that Napa Valley's getting its summer on, it's a welcome relief to wheel the groceries home.

Who needs fuel when you've got legs? And look at that happy girl.




Today, I'm so, so grateful for a blue bike -- with a basket and a cup holder!



Sunday, June 1, 2014

MAKING ROOM FOR THE GOOD STUFF

St. Helena, CA

Ted Talk by Graham Hill.

Can less stuff mean more happiness? I know it's absolutely true for me. The fewer things I own, the happier I am, and the freer I am to enjoy life on my own terms. Downsizing and living small are common themes around here, but now here's someone else saying it. This is a Ted Talk by Graham Hill with tips for simplifying and enriching your life.

Now, go do some editing!



Today I'm grateful for: our always beautiful view.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

LIVING SMALL: THE JUST ENOUGH BATHROOM

St. Helena, CA

Our just enough bathroom is now complete. For a minute there it wasn't, but now it is.

We bought your basic bathroom supplies, a short list:

1 shower curtain
2 bath towels
1 hand towel
1 bathmat

Then, I was showering yesterday, bending over to get my Dr. Bronner's soap for the fourth time, when I thought, "I should buy one of those soap dispensers that stick to the wall, just push the button. No more bending over."

Fortunately another part of my brain spoke up, "Hold on a minute. You're actually going to drive to a store, spend money on a big piece of plastic, add another thing to the list of things you own, just so you don't have to bend over?"

"Umm, maybe not."

Bending, a first world problem.

Things I didn't buy today: soap dispenser.


Today, I'm grateful for: flowers from my front yard.


Saturday, May 3, 2014

LIVING SMALL: DON'T BUY A BURDEN

St. Helena, CA

I didn't buy this!
After the excruciating process of liquidating a house full of stuff, I came away with a different perspective about owning things. They weigh me down, limit my mobility and sap my energy. If I own something, I have to make space for it in my daily world, clean it and care for it. Eventually, I will have to transport it, which is a burden for me, find a new home for it, which transfers the burden to someone else, or dispose of it, which is a burden to my planet.

My first post this week was about the rules for buying things when I must. Today I'm adding my strategies for resisting the urge to buy more things to weigh me down -- even the really awesome ones.

1. Shop with a list.

When I go shopping, especially to big stores, I go armed with a list of what I need, then try hard to stick to the list. Sometimes, I go out with a razor focus, such as this month's "36-inch drop leaf table." I've been shopping for weeks with that single-item list. Eventually, I'll find that perfect table for our small space, but until then, I can look at fabulous things that I don't have to buy. #I_win

2. Return things.

Sometimes the store's magic dust wears off on the way home, and that fabulous thing loses its fabulousness. I like returning things, because it makes me feel like someone is giving me free money, which is obviously not true but works in my favor. Some stores are better than others about returns, but I rarely have issues. Receipts go into a slot in our expand-o file, and then get cleared out every few months.

3. Think of stores as museums.

As full-time travelers for the last four years, we had continuous exposure to money-sucking opportunities. I learned to think of the stores as museums: Look but don't take. It's oddly empowering and takes away the "what should I buy" stress. I simply savor the colors, feel the textures (a museum where you can touch!) and enjoy the ride.

4. Take a picture, it doesn't last as long.

On my laptop, I have a folder of photos called "Things I Didn't Buy," which includes that orange bench at the top of this post. I don't even like that bench any more, even though I almost bought it -- ON SALE. Taking a photo satisfied my immediate need for possession, which soon passed. Here are a few more of the things I didn't buy, although I still like these:

5. Buddy up with a friendly bad cop.

Sometimes I need an intervention to knock me out of the buying spiral, a simple reminder to think again. Chip and I play the bad cop for each other, a simple nudge or "yes, it fits, but is it fabulous?" Beware of the good cop, good cop syndrome, where you shop with someone who encourages you to buy indiscriminately. Take your good cop buddy to lunch, not Macy's.

6. Go on a fact-finding mission.

When we settled here in St. Helena, we went on a major scouting excursion to familiarize ourselves with area stores. Now, when we need something, we can make a strategic strike without wasting time or exposing ourselves to unnecessary temptations.

7. Don't buy more storage space.

It's a scientific fact that empty space (a vacuum) wants to be filled. If I had bought that bench at the top, I would have put things inside it. That's the same reason we rented a tiny house and why we didn't buy a dresser for the bedroom, but instead bought a small rack with just enough space for the clothes we already have. No more buying things that hold more things!

8. If I want a souvenir, I get something tiny.

Size truly doesn't matter when it comes to souvenirs. You're buying a memory trigger. It's what it represents that matters.


After our first cruising season, crossing the Gulf Stream twice, I saw this ring in Charleston. The mesmerizing blue of the Gulf Stream is immortalized in this stone, and wearing it transports me to that glorious water without having to worry about impending weather or yakking over the rail.

9. Rethink gift exchanges.

We've revisited the whole premise of gift-giving. For our own birthdays we plan a luxurious dinner date, splurging on a decadent restaurant. It's a delicious treat for both of us -- and we don't have to take it home (except maybe a few extra pounds). For others, we give things that are consumable or expendable, like brownies or homemade limoncello or flying wish papers (LOVE THESE).

10. Savor the open space.

An expanse of open floor or a nearly empty shelf. Acknowledging and appreciating open space makes me want to keep it open: no fabric or plants covering the view out my windows, no floor-to-ceiling pictures cluttering up my walls. My eyes crave open space, an uncluttered gaze. It's how I find my muse.


Today, I'm grateful for: every blooming thing.


NEXT WEEK: It's all about wine country!

More about: downsizing | living small

Friday, May 2, 2014

DOWNSIZING: FROM LAND TO SEA

St. Helena, CA


How do you get rid of a house full of stuff? When we started back in 2008, we seriously had no idea. Our 5-year plan to sell everything and go sailing was 2 years from fruition, and 1400-square-feet of stuff stood between us and the water. My problem was that I didn't know anyone who had gone sailing or who planned to go sailing. Back then, there were very few blogs, and the few sailing blogs that were out there started with "we threw the lines and sailed away."

So, as I faced the gargantuan task, I had two goals:
  1. To mindfully dispose of a 4-bedroom house full of belongings, a thriving business, a too-small sailboat and two cars.
  2. To log the process for those who came after me.
Thus began my old blog, ploddingTOparadise.blogspot.com.

Since that blog has 394 posts and was not exclusively about downsizing, I've compiled the downsizing posts here in chronological order to make it easier for those coming after. 


PHASE ONE: Getting the house ready to sell.

Going Off the Grid -- The first post from a wide-eyed, hopeful me, who had no idea how much work lay ahead.
Two Steps Back -- A cringe-worthy TO DO list -- even now that it's done.
Do You Need a Stapler on a Boat? -- Puzzling over what to keep for a life I knew nothing about.
Some Days -- The stress of downsizing and other first world problems.
Blame It On August -- My kingdom for a cardboard box. @#!#@
Wind In Our Sails -- Making real progress.
A Long Trip -- The emotional toll of going through all my stuff.
Lonely at the Edge -- When nobody shares your vision.
Taking Measure -- Marking progress.
Step 842 -- Reality and other epiphanies.
Salon Refusé -- When downsizing hurts.
Running Toward Empty -- A banjo and a pasta maker, the bizarre dregs of a life.
Who's Watching My TV Tonight? -- The first garage sale.
The Sad, Sad Measuring Cup -- Blindsided by emotion, the happy/sad realization that life is a one-way trip.
The Incredibleness of Being Light -- The beauty of being clutter free.
Junking the Junk -- The last $#&*# garage sale and a mammoth trip to Goodwill.
The Last Can in the Pantry -- Saving the hardest for last.
A Time in September -- The gut-wrenching stress of dissolving a life.
Stir It Up -- Bad economic news but progress on the downsizing.
Messy Curtains & Missing Flyers -- How do you measure waiting?
Random Objects -- The things I chose to keep.


PHASE TWO: Final downsizing after house sold.

Getting Things in Line -- Organizing the move.
Tammy's Shopping Channel -- The great Facebook giveaway, my stuff goes nationwide.
Clearing House -- Selling furniture on Craigslist.
Shrink, Shrink Not -- Big progress in getting small

PHASE THREE: Transition from land to boat

Training Ground -- Camping in a small apartment.
You've Got Mail -- Figuring out how to handle mail.
Finding Focus -- More paring down: Books
Between a Rock and the Water -- Ill-equipped for land and sea.
On the Move -- The short list of belongings and a final move on land.
Let It Go, Girl -- A sad, sad requiem for a tiny spoon.




PHASE FOUR: Moving onboard

Just Enough -- Moving onboard -- a real boat is smaller than a fictional boat!
The Price of Playing -- Emotional freefall.
Galley Ho! -- Downsizing from a full kitchen to a wee galley.
The Last Load -- Hallelujah, the last stuff goes onboard!
Car-Pay Diem -- SOLD! Car number one.

On October 22, 2010, we handed over the keys to our last land possession: a car. Two days later, we sailed away on our 38' boat with everything we owned in the world onboard, yet again wide-eyed and hopeful with no idea what lay ahead.



MORE ABOUT: downsizing | living small

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

LIVING SMALL: THE JUST ENOUGH BEDROOM

St. Helena, CA

Our beautiful quilt from Target.
Our wee cottage in wine country came unfurnished, so in anticipation of move-in day, we made a preemptive trip to Napa (the city) to make our first land bound purchase: a bed. After four years of living on a rough-and-tumble boat and four months of road-tripping, my kid-before-Christmas anticipation of having a comfy bed was certifiably whack-a-doodle.

So item #1 delivered a few hours after our arrival: a bed.

Our commitment to living small made us ponder what else was truly necessary in the aptly named bedroom, and in the strictest sense, the answer was nothing. But, hey, even a dorm room has more than a bed, so, not to be outdone, we got four more things, two nightstands and two rugs.


IKEA in Sacramento had Expedit cubes on sale for $9.99, so we bought four and stacked them, perfect beside the extra-tall bed. And not bad @ $19.98 per nightstand.


To outsmart the need for an annoying bedskirt, I got a King-sized quilt for a Queen-sized bed, and instead of buying a dresser to accommodate a few items of clothing, we got a $30 rack (on the right), also from IKEA.

That door mirror came with the place, but alas, no hangers. We bought 30 hangers for $3.51, which is a handy clothing control feature. No hanger for that new shirt? Something's got to go!

We put hooks behind the bedroom door to hang our coats and jackets.

The just enough bedroom:

1 bed
2 nightstands
2 rugs
2 bedside lamps (not found yet)
1 wire rack
30 hangers
10 hooks


Today, I am grateful for: my light and airy, just enough bedroom.

Napa vines at work.

MORE ABOUT: downsizing | living small

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

DOWNSIZING TIP: LOSE THE PAPER TRAIL

St. Helena, CA


When we started plotting our escape from land life, one of the toughest challenges was ink on paper. We had to dispose of piles of books and miles of files. Then we had to dodge, stop and divert shocking amounts of junk mail, a task that we tilted at for more than two years (read about it here).

Now that we're back on land, I'm trying to arrest a new flow of paper into my life by using lessons learned in the paper trenches. Come along. It's not easy and requires continued diligence, but I know from experience, the less paper you have, the lighter you feel!

1. Slim down your paper files.

This was a tough and time-sucking task when we were downsizing. I had files that were 20 years old. Doing it all at once was intense, so take your time -- even if it's one file per day. Be brutal. Here's advice from usa.gov on how long you should keep files and what you should keep. And here's info on what papers to shred. Many businesses including banks offer free shredding. If it doesn't have to be shredded, recycle it.

2. Go paperless.

Start right now. Request paperless statements and bills from utilities, banks, credit cards, retirement accounts, etc. Many stores are now offering to email receipts, and I was happy to find that our local library sends records through email. Any time someone tries to hand me a piece of paper, I ask for other options. Doctors, dentists, pharmacies, I ask them all. I opt out at the pump or the ATM unless I absolutely must have that piece of paper. If I accept it, I try to do something with it immediately, file, shred, recycle. Otherwise, I'm making homework for myself to do later.

3. Curb the junk mail.

Junk mail is the spawn of Satan, tenacious and prolific. It hunts me down and then reproduces itself when I'm not looking. The National Do Not Mail List is a good starting point. It offers ample options for what you want (nothing for me) and don't want to see in your mailbox. Then, I directly contact companies that are legitimately sending me mail I don't want. This is time consuming but worth it. Some companies offer to send catalogs less frequently if you just want to stem the flow.

4. Don't keep books you don't need.

Unless you're 20 or younger, you probably have a fondness for ink-on-paper books. That's okay. Keep the ones you want/need. However, admit that there are many that you neither want nor need, and get them out of the house. There are a lot of options for doing this, including selling them on Amazon.com. I've found it's not worth the trouble unless they are worth more than $5 each. Otherwise, many used bookstores buy used books, or you can donate them to libraries, schools or charities. 

5. Purge magazines and newspapers regularly.

This one takes continued, relentless dedication. Start by canceling subscriptions for publications that are no longer relevant. Then set an expiration for unread literature, such as one week for newspapers, one month for magazines, and then get them out of the house. If you balk at recycling or throwing them away, trade them with friends or give them to a doctor's office or library.

Now, take a deep breath. I told you it wouldn't be easy. Reward yourself for reducing the paper weight!



Today, I'm grateful for: bare feet. It's deliciously warm in wine country today!

MORE ABOUT: downsizing | living small

Monday, April 28, 2014

DOWNSIZING TIP: STOP UPSIZING

Our old house mid-downsizing.
St. Helena, CA

In 2008, Chip and I started to seriously "downsize," not as a philosophical exercise but as an extreme sport. We were moving from a 1400-square-foot house (shown on the right) onto a 300-square-foot sailboat. Job number one was to get rid of all our stuff.

It was a daunting task, and in preparation, we had started several years earlier by stopping the escalation (although you can't tell from that photo).

We stopped buying stuff. I'm not talking about food and basic necessities. I'm talking about the scarf hanger at IKEA, the decorative pillow at Target, the grill tool set at Home Depot. We're all inundated everywhere, all the time with things to buy, stuff that by its very existence makes us wonder how we ever lived without it.

But it is possible to get off the treadmill -- and to stay off. Now, after four years of sailing, we are furnishing our small 512-square-foot cottage in wine country, and we want to own just enough. Staying out of the escalation game requires constant diligence, but when we do need to buy something it has to meet certain criteria.

1. I need it.

Boy, that's the basic lesson here, and when I learned to tell the difference between 'need' and 'want,' it revolutionized my buying habits. Keeping a running list of things I actually need helps me stay focused. The hard part is, in the heat of the Target aisle, not letting desire convince me that a 'want' is really a 'need.' That's when I step away...

2. It called me back.

I employ my own waiting period as if I am buying a gun. I leave the store for a cooling off period to see if the item really sticks in my head. Impulse is when emotion overrides judgment, and by walking away, I completely disengage the emotion and therefore the impulse. After I've left the store, I almost never remember what it was that seemed so urgent.

3. It is well made.

Do a quick inspection. Is the fabric high quality? Is the workmanship solid? Does it get good reviews? The marketplace is flooded with inferior products that are practically disposable. It's called planned obsolescence, and we try to avoid the replacement trap. It's not a good deal if it falls apart next month. We do research before we buy and inspect items thoroughly before pulling out the cash.

4. I would pay full price for it.

Sale items are so tempting. It's only $5.99, marked down from $29.99! But would I want it at the full price? If not, it's probably not worth $5.99. Seriously, it's not a bargain unless it meets all the criteria -- and being inexpensive doesn't make me need it, remember it or raise its quality. And, it's even harder when someone offers me something for free, but the same rules apply. However, if it does meet all the criteria and it's on sale or free? Score.

5. It is fantastic.

Okay, if the item has made it over the first four hurdles, this is the deciding factor -- and one that has saved me hundreds of dollars. Chip and I made up this rule for clothing, but we now apply it to many things. Our closets and drawers were full of clothes that fit but didn't inspire us enough to wear them. #fail Now, we don't even try it on unless, oh my, it's amazing. And remember those dishes we bought for our cottage? They met the first four criteria -- and they're fantastic.



The secret of happiness, you see, is not found in seeking more, but in developing the capacity to enjoy less. --Socrates


Today, I am grateful for: California sunshine, which meets all five criteria.

MORE ABOUT: downsizing | living small

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

CHICKEN LITTLE

St. Helena, CA


My commitment to staying small has reached miniature proportions. This wee chick and I keep watch as the tree outside the kitchen window bursts into lime green splendor.

After four years of blue on blue on blue, I'm feasting on a different spot on the color wheel.



Today, I am grateful for: the world's tiniest chicken and wine country green.


Monday, April 21, 2014

THE JUST ENOUGH KITCHEN

St. Helena, CA


I was reading recently about Dave Bruno and the 100 Thing Challenge, a downsizing challenge where you pare down your belongings to 100 things. Having just moved into our small place with almost nothing, I kept thinking, "100. That's a lot."

On the other hand, that 100 things could add up pretty darn fast, in the kitchen alone.

But living on a boat for four years gave me a new understanding of what is essential. When we first moved onboard, we pared down our galley supplies to an imaginary bare minimum. I realize now that those "bare necessities" were not what I needed but rather what I could fit in the space.

Now, with unfettered space, I have made a commitment, not to filling the space but to having just enough.

So now, with a fresh start, here's what we've got:

Good thing the last tenants left that space-saving shelf!
We've opted not to use a dishwasher since that would require a lot more dishes. And technically, we could get by with two of everything, but we want to have guests, so we've opted for four. Two at a time, folks!


Four place settings of flatware and some kitchen tools. We have a Brita filter, a coffee pot, a grinder, an iron skillet, a saucepan and a cake pan.

And finally, because we don't have many things, we decided they should be pretty. We found these dishes on clearance at Pier 1.

Complementary but not matching, just like us.
The kitchen is done, and we've topped out at less than 50 things (although I counted flatware as one thing). This is considerably less than we had in the tiny galley on the boat, but it feels just right.


Today, I'm grateful for: my beautiful square plates.

MORE ABOUT: wine country | downsizing | living small

Friday, April 18, 2014

GETTING SMALL, BEING GRATEFUL

St. Helena, CA


If you've been with us since 2008, you know in graphic detail how hard we worked to get off the grid. For months -- years even -- we struggled to dispose of and redistribute a houseful of belongings. It was a painstaking process that I wrote about extensively in my old blog.

And now, after four years of living off the grid on our 38' sailboat, we have once again taken up residence on land, but I find that many things have changed. Well, not many things. Just me, really. I've changed. My understanding of 'need' and 'want' have shifted. I now know the difference between 'necessity' and 'luxury'. Things I used to think of as necessities, like hot water? Water is a necessity, but hot water, that's a luxury. Things I used to think I needed, like a closet full of linens? What I 'need' is one set of sheets, two bath towels and a hand towel. There's a washer and dryer here, yet another incredible luxury, not a necessity.

We moved into our empty, 512-square-foot cottage with what fit in our VW Jetta: an IKEA rug, two unassembled barstools, sheets, towels, four suitcases, some dishes from Pier 1 and some cleaning stuff from Target.


It's kinda echo-y in here, but the rug helps. We ordered a bed, and it was delivered soon after our arrival. A bed. Aaaah. Total luxury.


It might appear that I am leading a spartan life, but the reality is quite the opposite. This tiny cottage is filled with luxuries, and I am filled with gratitude for my few things, a gratitude that I didn't have when I lived in a house three times this large with ten times as much stuff. Less has come to mean more.

We have made a commitment to staying small, staying out of the escalation game and staying in the gratitude game.

I wish I thought this would be easy, but I'll write about it here, so we can all learn together.

Today, I am so, so grateful for a bed and two chairs.


MORE ABOUT: wine country | downsizing | living small

Thursday, April 17, 2014

A SAILOR RENTS A HOUSE

St. Helena, CA


Wine country has wowed us and wooed us -- and we've decided to stick around. After four years of living onboard our 39' x 13' (at its widest point) bobbling home, we are shopping for a land vessel, and by that I mean a place to live on land.

"Here ya go," the property manager said as he opened the front door of a wee cottage measuring 512 square feet, a little bigger than the average two-car garage. "It's pretty small, but it's got wood floors throughout."

I stepped into a seemingly palatial cottage, and by that I mean 33' x 14' of squared off living space.

"The kitchen is rather small," he said apologetically as I gaped at miles of cabinets on three sides of the room. And by that I mean there were 10 drawers and 30(!) cabinet doors. Which cabinet would I choose to hold all my kitchen items: two travel mugs.

"Here's the bathroom. Pretty basic," he said as I looked at the faucets marked H, knowing that if I turned them, hot water would come pouring out. And the toilet was one of the magical kind where you simply touch the handle and the waste vanishes. By that, I mean I don't have to crouch over it, pumping, switching from dry to water in just the right proportions. By that, I mean "vanishes" as in "flushing" does not put the waste under my bed until I find a way to pump it somewhere else. By that, I mean I don't have to mentally track how much of that waste is stored under my bed until I find a place to remove it before I'm full of you-know-what.

"Small bedroom," he laments, as we walk into a sprawling 14' x 10' room. "This first door has the washer and dryer."

I nearly dropped to my knees. A washer and dryer?!? IN THE BEDROOM. I no longer have to pack up my dirty underwear in a waterproof bag, put it in the dinghy, motor to shore and shlep it an untold number of miles to a ratty laundromat. I no longer have to hoard quarters as if they're $20 bills or sit for hours in a sweaty room, creating more dirty laundry while I wait for a washing machine to open up and then for it to slosh around for 26 minutes, infusing my clothes with the cloying perfume of the last person's detergent.

"The other door is the only closet," he sighed sadly, as I stepped inside. And by that I mean, I STEPPED INSIDE IT, with my entire body, and I stretched out my arms and could not reach either wall or the ceiling. Breathtaking.

"I have to warn you," this high-pressure salesman said, "because of the drought, they're about to impose water rationing. Only 65 gallons, per person, per day."

The poor man must have thought I was insane as I doubled over with laughter, and maybe "cruiser" and "insane" are synonymous. We are the folks who eschew the comforts of land and travel like it's 1899. Our 170 gallons of water onboard lasted us comfortably for two weeks. And by that, I mean bathing daily, washing dishes, cooking, cleaning. That's 6 gallons per person, per day. So, 65 gallons a day? Maybe he got the decimal in the wrong place.

We were still trying to imagine living in a place that didn't move, a place where we would anchor down for, oh, how long?

"What are the lease terms?" I asked.

"That might be a problem," he replied. "We only do month-to-month."

"We'll take it!"

Now about those empty rooms. Maybe we can open a bowling alley?


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