Living the Quaint and Cozy Life
The real estate listing describes the house as “quaint” and “cozy.” For most of us, that’s our cue to turn to the next listing and keep going. “Quaint” and “cozy,” sure, but who writes those ads, and why do they leave out other descriptive terms like “claustrophobia-inducing” and “sardine can”?
I can remember house-hunting days in the past when I would laugh to myself when I saw those “quaint and cozy” ads, feeling so smart for seeing through the real estate jargon and saving myself a lot of legwork. I was too smart to ever let myself be deceived into scheduling a showing for one of those hobbit houses.
Of course now, having lived in a 485 square foot house for nearly five years, I have trouble understanding why I ever had that knee-jerk response in the first place. What’s so bad about small? Why was it an idea that I just rejected out of hand, with no serious reflection at all?
Living in a small house, for me at least, has ended up being one of the most joyous and life-changing experiences I’ve ever had. My son and I came here, shedding all of our unnecessary baggage, clearing out the clutter of years of mindless living, and found a new way of life that could only be described as spacious.
Sure, there are challenges to living in a small house but I’d rather focus on the opportunities and the blessings. Moving into a small space forces you to focus on priorities. You have to take a good look at what really matters and decide what stays and what goes. When we first moved here we did an awful lot of physical de-cluttering, selling, recycling, and donating at least as much stuff as we kept. Couches, chairs, tables, dressers, my looms and my spinning wheel, books, clothes and much more…all out the door and out of our lives forever.
But at the same time there was a much subtler de-cluttering also taking place, in my mind and my spirit and in the way that my son and I related to one another. I found that a streamlined existence created space inside of me. I wasn’t distracted by a million and one things, by objects that needed to be cleaned and maintained, by a huge house that was always demanding something of me. Instead, I found myself becoming more centered and calm. The pace of my life slowed and settled into a beautiful rhythm, no longer the frantic and mindless dance it had been. And I had time to enjoy the simplest of pleasures with my son. Evenings snuggled on the couch reading a good book, wild games of Frisbee out in the street, fantastic meals concocted together in our tiny kitchen from foods we grew ourselves. We couldn’t hole ourselves up in distant corners of our house because there were no distant corners, and instead of inducing claustrophobia, it really brought us closer together. This is what family is all about, after all: being present with one another.
Nowadays I don’t read real estate ads (I have no need to), but if I did I’m sure I’d laugh to myself when I came across the words “grand” or “spacious” or “open.” I see those words now as real estate euphemisms for “distant,” “detached,” “cluttered” and “manic,” a whole way of life I have no desire to revisit. Here, in my small house, I have everything that matters to me. It’s a quaint and cozy life and one I wouldn’t give up for anything.
Mel Williams is busy enjoying life in her small town on Colorado’s eastern plains. She explores the wider implications of simple living on her blog, Where Simplicity Leads.
