34,000 feet above the East coast of the United States, flying due south (and west), I am crunched into a Spirit Airlines seat. My turf for 2½ hours. And I forgot to pack a book. To make the situation somewhat worse the flight is a bumpy one. Passengers are warned to tighten their seat belts. My mind wanders...
When hub and I forego frequent air travel, Spirit Air will survive without our presence and our cash (barely). But we will want to continue seeing the family (and hopefully they will want to see us, but we won’t ask). Do we relocate and live near the kids? One family resides in Florida, the other in Vermont. Both interesting alternatives at different times of the year.
There is an intriguing option. I have read about a phenomenon called tiny houses or the small-house movement, loosely defined as homes with no more than 400 square feet of living space. I never needed or wanted a large house. Smallness appeals.
The dilemma: Where to put a tiny house? Would our tiny house replace the Florida family's backyard pool? Could it be erected on stilts above the water? Or float in the pool like a houseboat?
Or would our tiny house replace the Vermont family's ice skating rink and sandbox?
Two families to fight over hub and me.
The loser gets us.
equipped with wheels. We can secure the house in Vermont in the summer, Florida during the winter, and live the snowbird lifestyle. At a bargain price.
Tiny houses cost anywhere from $10,000 to $180,000. And of course they come with associated costs. But one could be cheaper—and probably more fun—than conventional living arrangements. (What about an RV, you might be thinking. Not a viable long-term solution for us. Too big for hub and me to drive, too massive to maneuver into either family’s backyard or fit in one of their yards, and more expensive than a tiny house).
The plane is about to land. Safely. Tiny house talk can wait for a time far into the future.
Meanwhile we forge ahead and fly budget airlines.