The benefits of living in a small space

As I mentioned to a friend on Instagram this morning, moving into our tiny space has involved a steep learning curve - not so much in terms of figuring out sewer/water/electric hookups or deciding where to travel, but very much so in terms of learning to live together in the smallest place we've ever owned.

Three humans and one cat cohabitating in a relatively modest-sized RV can be fraught with challenges, like when the dishes pile up (happens quickly, and can make the kitchen feel chaotic), or when someone's in a less-than-happy mood and doesn't feel like hanging out with family members, or when I reallllly want to get my yoga workout in but have to wait until Trent and Sam are off at the pool for an hour.

When the slide-out is out, this is where I do my workout. Right next to the kitty litter. Ommmm....

But! Even though it's frustrating sometimes, I see multiple benefits to living together in this little home:

1. We can keep only what we really need and/or want. There's simply no room for extraneous things we won't use or can't appreciate, so we carefully consider every single item we bring into our space. We did this before we moved in, but - because it was difficult to predict what we would actually use - we continue to evaluate our belongings. For example, the pretty serving tray that I carefully stowed into a cabinet for Pinterest-worthy dinner picnics is proving to be worthless, so it's not going to stick around. It needs to give up its home for something that we will actually utilize. 

Along the same lines, until we started preparing for RV life, I didn't realize how much random crap people are constantly trying to pass on to one another, such as the little towels that our campground gave us as a "welcome present" (they're not large enough to dry off with and not absorbent enough to dry dishes with), or the mini-frisbees and beer koozies available as "gifts" in the activity center this morning. It's tempting to take and keep these, but we don't need them and ultimately they're just going to serve as dust-catchers. Not worth it. MUST. RESIST. FREE. STUFF.

2. We have a better appreciation for what we do have. This sounds silly, but every morning I look at my coffee pot and think, "Man, I love this thing." I like its design, I like how easy it is to clean, and I like that it produces my favorite caffeinated beverage. I look at it and I appreciate it, whereas before this journey, I owned a lot of things that I walked by every single day and barely even noticed, much less acknowledged.

Coffee pot and rooster mug: Key players in my morning ritual

3. It's easy to clean and organize. Sam - the most organized person in our family - will tell you that I have a lot of opportunity for growth here, but overall I think we do a good job of keeping Clark tidy. And because Clark is small, it really doesn't take all that much time and effort. We can go from kitchen disaster zone to Instagram-worthy countertops in a matter of minutes. (Not saying that lasts long, but whatever.)

Post-breakfast is always messy, but it takes minutes to clean it up.

4. A small space requires less energy to heat and cool than a traditional home. It's hot here in Texas, so yes, we have our fan or A/C on most of the time. That said, it doesn't take much to cool the place down. Of course, our goal is to eventually "follow the weather" and get solar panels so that we can further minimize the use of fossil fuels for heating and cooling. At the very least, we're more aware now of what it takes to bring our space to a comfortable temperature. It encourages us to think about the resources and processes required.

5. We're forced to deal with interpersonal issues right away. This is a tough one even for a family that generally gets along. Sometimes our RV is like a pressure cooker! Things I've been trying to work on: not getting bent out of shape about the way Trent does the dishes (yes, I realize I'm crazy), being more patient when I need space but can't have it immediately, and talking through problems as they happen instead of letting the issues build up. This was my idea, and yet of anyone in the family, I'm the one who is most attached to the concept of a personal bubble. That part is tough for me, and I'm figuring out how to navigate that particular issue. So... yeah. Definitely a learning experience. 

6. I get to spend more time with my family. I love that. Sometimes it's really nice to hang out for hours in the same tiny room with them. As I write this, Sam is sitting across from me with a pad of paper, a ruler, and a pencil, designing a new hotel for his Minecraft world. I type, he draws, and we share ideas as we go. That kind of experience makes this wild journey totally worth it.

We're leaving TOMORROW! Maybe! Or maybe not.

Our plan is to leave tomorrow, but we're waiting for a critical Internet-related package, so we may or may not head out then. We've already pushed back one of our campground reservations in Tennessee just in case. We figure we might want to take our time getting there anyway. 

Today was an interesting combination of busyness, fun, and relaxation.

We woke up in the RV, which is currently parked in the driveway. Here's Sam demonstrating how the over-cab bunk is supposed to work:

He loves that space. It's entirely his own and he's excited about organizing it as he sees fit.

We made huge progress in cleaning out our house. Two rooms are entirely empty, a third contains only the items we plan to drop off and store at my parents' house, the kitchen is less of a disaster than it was yesterday, and the family room now houses only the stuff that we haven't moved to the RV yet.

Biscuit freaked out at all the emptiness and spent hours hiding behind the toilet; to make her more comfortable (and bathroom use a little more private), we created a cat fort out of a folding chair and towels:

We finished cleaning out my office and turned in my keys:

And then we had some time for making a delicious dinner and playing Try-To-Spray-Me-With-The-Water-Hose-Good-Luck-I-Have-A-Moldy-Umbrella:

We're in a little bit of hurry-up-and-wait mode, but it's fine. At this point, what's the rush?

The Great Stuff Purge, Part 2

Trent and I spent a big chunk of this morning paring down our wardrobes and other belongings. We did so for several reasons:

1. Clark can hold only so much stuff. Closet space is particularly limited. Trent and I will have a total of one decent-sized wardrobe in which we can hang stuff up. Otherwise, we'll be relying on plastic bins stored in relatively small cabinets.

2. We won't have a washer and dryer... Which means we'll be going to laundromats... And the fewer loads of laundry we have to do, the better. 

3. We're hoping we won't need a lot of cold-weather gear. The plan is to move with the seasons so that we're never freezing and never broiling. If this works out, the big puffy coats and thick sweaters won't be necessary.

So I'm all for getting rid of stuff, but this exercise was not easy. Apparently I have an inner hoarder. Conversations I had with myself during the purge-fest:

Me: This underwear is going into the trash.

Myself: No!

Me: ...Why? It has holes in it. 

Myself: But I've had that pair since 2004! It has sentimental value!

*

Me: What the heck is this? Where did you even find it?

Myself: ...Bronzer. It was in the dresser.

Me: BRONZER. Are you kidding me? Are you a Kardashian? I'm pretty sure a grand total of NOBODY trusts you to use this stuff correctly.

Myself: But I might need it. What if I have to look nice?

Me: Then this is not the way to go. 

*

Me: This sock is on its way out.

Myself: NO.

Me: It's not even your sock! It's like a size extra large! It's missing its mate!

Myself: But what if there's an emergency?!? You never know. Remember the Apollo mission?

Me: You have issues.

And then there was the pile of orphan socks I ended up with:

Where did their friends go? No idea. They're just gone.

I have had a lot of clothes. I didn't like at least half of them, and many of them I never wore more than once or twice. Why do we hang onto things we don't want or need? Why do we buy them in the first place? Why do we feel like we have to wear something different every day of the month? 

Here's the haul we took over to the reuse facility:

To top it all off, we carted a bunch of books to the library. The house is looking a little bare in places - and that's totally fine by me.

Our plan from here on out is to only carry what we need, will use, and already have. Only when we actually need a new item will we purchase one. Will we be winning any fashion awards? No, but we were never going to, anyway. Obviously.

Two months out!

Susanne is your driver for this post.

We're now two months away from our RV departure window. We don't have an exact calendar date in mind because... well, we can be flexible. That's part of nomadic living, so we might as well embrace it from the get-go. Our window is defined by the fact that my job and Sam's school year both finish up at the end of May, and we want to pay rent on our current place only through the end of June at the latest. 

When I'm not busy with teaching, I spend a lot of time trying to wrap my head around leaving academia. Is it the right decision? Yes, but the thing is, it takes years of hard work, focus, and sheer determination to get through a Ph.D. and even more of the same - plus a huge dose of luck - to land a tenure-track job. Walking away from something I was so set on achieving isn't easy. Like many who work in academia, a huge part of my identity has been defined by what I do and my contributions to teaching and research. Moreover, my opinions of myself as a person have often been dictated by my job successes and especially my failures. So yes. This is fairly terrifying, TBH.

My knee-jerk tendency to define who I am by what I do, how good my evaluations are, whether I get the grant I apply for, and how others in my field judge my work has become a problem. Some people can handle all of this with aplomb. I don't. Instead, academia turns me into an anxious, stressed-out, working-too-hard, self-conscious basketcase. In the great words of "Office Space," I don't like that so... I'm not going to do it anymore.

Or to paraphrase a farewell-to-academia blog I read a few months back, I thought it would be one way, it's not what I thought it would be like, I tried it, and it wasn't for me.

Since announcing our plans to RV full time, most people have been incredibly supportive and nonjudgmental. A few people have looked at us quizzically and asked, "...but...what will you do?" I don't necessarily think they're judging us. I think it's an honest question that roughly translates into, "How will you support yourselves financially? How will you create a meaningful life if you don't have a job title that reflects your education and training?"

We addressed the first issue a couple of posts back. In reality, we will both have jobs; they'll just be Internet-based jobs, and mine will be part time. My other job will be to homeschool Sam.

As for meaning, I've spent a lot of time thinking about it lately and jotting down what does and doesn't matter to me. It took awhile, but eventually I came up with the following list of my priorities - the things that give me meaning:

• Cultivating a happy and stable family life
• Having autonomy in my work, and doing work that allows me to be creative and problem solve (that's why I like geology and science in general: it requires creativity and problem solving)
• Finding and participating in adventures
• Challenging myself physically 
• Supporting and inspiring others when and how I can
• Making choices that are environmentally and financially responsible

What doesn't matter to me so much:

• Having a lot of money
• Owning a house that's fixed in one spot (that might change in the future, but right now it's not a priority)
• Having the same job for most of my career

I wish I could add "What other people think" to that second list, but that's not true. I'm a sensitive person and I DO care what other people think. I wish I cared less, and I'm hoping that our nomadic lifestyle will help me place less weight on outside opinions.

A friend posted this cartoon on Facebook the other day and it really hit home: "Creating a life that reflects your values and satisfies your soul is a rare achievement."

That's the big picture I want us to focus on.