Welcome to Issue Two: Downsizing

Posted April 4th, 2009 by Stephanie Reiley and filed in Issue 2: Downsizing


I would like to begin by saying thank you to everyone who has taken the time to stop by Small Living Journal and read our first issue.  Your warm welcome and thoughtful comments have been really wonderful for the writers after a couple of months of working in silence to prepare for our launch.  We’ve been deeply touched by your enthusiasm for the project.

We’ve also been rather surprised by the volume of interest we’ve received from people wanting to participate as guest writers on SLJ.  In this issue, we have included articles from three new participants: Heather from The GreenestDollar; Christina from DeclutterLife, and Jonathan, an educator who’s passionate about what he refers to as “mainstream small”. If you would be interested in participating yourself in a future issue, please refer to our Guest Submission guidelines.

While  you may have noticed the same name on the top of the first two issues, beginning with Issue 3 you will see a rotating schedule of editors for each issue.  The responsibility for choosing the topic of the issue, sorting through guest submissions, and formatting and publishing the actual issue will circulate amongst all of the key contributors at SLJ.  The hope is that by taking this approach, each of the writers will help shape SLJ’s directon and voice, making the journal far stronger than it would be with any one person on the masthead.

With that, I’d like to turn to the topic of our current issue–downsizing…

I think pretty much every writer in the small home movement has had the experience of sharing with someone the details of where they live.  Initially, the listener responds with enthusiasm about the concept of small home living.  However, upon further contemplation–particularly in terms of the feasibility of a similar living arrangement for themselves–some combination of abject horror, terror, and nausea crosses their face and they wail the all-too-familiar question to tiny home dwellers: “But what would I do with ALL MY STUFF??”

This issue of Small Living Journal  is an attempt to provide answers to all of you who have considered this very dilemma.  We hope you find our collection of articles both useful and enjoyable.  And we look forward to your comments and suggestions.

Radical Downsizing

I should probably start this article with a confession… I’m really not a minimalist by nature. In fact, I seem to have a remarkable aptitude for collecting stuff. Lots of varied, interesting stuff that I’m convinced at the time of purchase will add to my quality of my life. And, in a strange way, I think that makes me particularly qualified to write this piece–because I recently had to go through the exercise in getting rid of more than 2/3′s of all my possessions in a little under six weeks. I wouldn’t say that was the least stressful six weeks of my life but, if I can do it, you can, too. (And, with any luck, you will have more time in which to downsize.)


To give you a little background on my situation, I had moved from a 3,000+ sq. foot house with separate garage to a 1,000 sq. foot adobe home + 300 sq. foot art studio during my divorce. While I took only those items belonging to me, I did a remarkably good job of filling the smaller place with my stuff. Due, in part, to my ex hiring a moving company to precipitously dump about half of my belongings on my new doorstep, the “art studio” out back pretty much spent the next year as a storage unit, packed floor to ceiling with boxes–each of which contained a near-random collection of my stuff. (While the picture in this article is not from my studio, I’m afraid it looked remarkably similar.)

When the legal proceedings were over and I pulled out of my depressed haze, I promptly  bought a 550 square foot floating home with a grand scheme of simplifying my life. (Let me just say that there are definitely simpler ways to simplify one’s life than the route I chose, but that’s an article for another time.) Knowing I had a bunch of renovation costs in front of me, I then made my second less-than-fully-sane decision to be out of my current place when my lease was up the following month. My mission, whether or not I chose to accept it, was to take inventory of all my worldly possessions and reduce them by more than two thirds in just under six weeks.

Here are the strategies I used to accomplish near-Herculean task, and how I think you could also employ them…

1. eBay
I used eBay as my first stop in trying to find new homes for many high-dollar items I knew I wouldn’t be taking with me. Through this channel, I sold several fairly valuable musical instruments, electronics, and even one of my two cars. The trick for successfully using eBay was taking good, clear photos of the items and providing detailed descriptions. The more detail you can provide on an item, the better justification you have for where you set your price.

I think it’s also important to make an effort to respond quickly and honestly to questions sent to you by bidders. There’s an element of trust involved with buying high-dollar items online. Anything you can do to ensure a potential buyer that you’re not a con-artist operating from the Caymans is a good thing. If you’re using eBay to sell large or high-dollar items, be careful not to underestimate your shipping costs. I took a bath on the first to instruments I sold because of this.

I experimented with trying to sell some of my large pieces of furniture on eBay but found Craigslist was a lot more successful for this. (Although, I was able to find a local buyer for my large, flat-screen TV via eBay which I listed as “pick up only”.)

2. Craigslist
Most large cities now have a Craigslist for their area. Essentially, this is a free online classified service. Through Craigslist, I was able to see most of the large pieces of furniture I wasn’t planning on taking with me.

Like with eBay, good photos and descriptions can go a long way in attracting the attention of serious buyers, as can staying on top of email inquiries. My experience leads me to believe that most people hunting Craigslist want to buy a specific item in a short period of time.

I think it’s a good idea to post your general crossroads with the item but refrain from listing your address until you’re certain someone is serious about coming by to look at an item. Also, wherever possible, I recommend scheduling appointments to view items during daylight hours when you know neighbors will be around. Better yet, have someone else with you when you know you’re going to have people standing by. To be honest, unlike with Freecyle, I never had a scary situation come up with someone off of Craigslist. (In fact, I had a couple of buyers who I think were just as cautious about their own safety as I was of mine.)

Expect most Craigslist buyers to want to pay with cash. If you’re not charging an even multiple of $20, make sure you have bills handy to make change. I would recommend setting your prices on items slightly higher than your bottom line as two thirds of the Craigslist buyers I dealt with want to haggle over the price.

If you’re selling items that will be difficult to move, make sure you prep your potential buyers that they should bring help with them to transport the item. If you don’t, odds are good you’re going to be doing some heavy lifting.

3. Consignment Furniture Stores
I used a local consignment furniture store to deal with the last few pieces of furniture I was unable to sell off Craigslist. (My couch and loveseat, an entertainment center, and a bedframe.) I discovered both pros and cons to this approach.

consignment-furnitureConsignment stores are convenient if you don’t have much time to deal with individual buyers coming through your place. They normally pick up your items in one stop and deal with all the headaches of dealing with buyers.

Expect most consignment stores to take 50% of the sale price of an item. Some will also charge you an upfront appraisal and/or transport fee for your items. (I ended up paying $50 for my items.) On the plus side, the consignment store also priced my items for roughly twice what I was advertising them for on Craigslist. So, I’ll end up seeing roughly the same amount of cash for my items.

Most consignment stores issue checks once a month on items that have been sold. It’s not a bad idea to find out what day checks are being issued and call a few days before to check on the status of your items. The place I selected did eventually sell all my items where they were initially priced. But it took multiple phone calls to actually get the checks sent to me once the sales had been made.

Most consignment stores will ask for a couple of months to try to sell your item. If they are unsuccessful, they will give you the option of trying a lower price or donating your item to a local charity.

4. Gifting
I had a couple of treasured items that really didn’t serve a purpose in my new home but which I also couldn’t bear to simply sell. In most cases these were things that had been deeply meaningful to me at a certain point in my life, either because of the purpose they served or because they were a gift from someone dear to me.

Of all the things I had to downsize, these were probably the most difficult for me to figure out how to handle. Ultimately, I chose people whom I thought might appreciate them as much as I had in the past and offered them as gifts. Seeing my friends excitement at receiving something special at an unexpected time allowed me to finally let go.

5. Donations
In the process of downsizing, I significantly culled both my wardrobe and small household items. This resulted in several bags of clothing and boxes of small items (most of which were small appliances, knickknacks, or other decorations). Stronger souls might have had the fortitude to host a garage sale or to Freecycle all these. I didn’t. Plus, I had the excuse that I was on a tight schedule and didn’t have an open weekend.

For these items, I opted to donate them to local charities and take the tax write-off. Clothes and household items went to the Salvation Army. An old cell phone went to a local battered woman’s shelter. The collection of stuffed animals and toys given to me by various exes (minus a few I couldn’t bear to part with) went to Toys for Tots.

freecycle-tp-med6. Freecycle
Many communities now have a Freecycle program. Freecycle allows users to advertise items they no longer want. People interested in the items contact you. Most groups expect items to be offered for free and the normal expectation is that the person receiving the item is responsible for pickup unless other arrangements are made with the donor.

I have seen just about everything from used coloring books to an antique clawfooted bathtub posted on my local Freecycle group. In my case, I used Freecyle mainly to offload: small pieces of furniture that weren’t valuable enough to try to sell; lawn equipment; pet supplies I couldn’t use with my new cat; and some household appliances like an old, box-style TV.

I’ve had both good and bad experiences with Freecycle, some of which I’ve written about previously on my blog. Freecycle appeals to me because its a way to given items you no longer need directly to people who can use them. However, I found using Freecycle to be more time and energy intensive than several of the other methods.

If you’re going to advertise items on Freecycle, I recommend posting them early in the day. Don’t necessarily always chose the first person who responds to agree to give the item to. I found that in my local group there were a group of people who remained online all day and offered to take pretty much everything off my hands. After a couple of experiences accepting first responses, I learned to wait until I found someone who really seemed like they were going to benefit from the item. And who seemed on-the-ball about when and, perhaps even more importantly, how they planned to pick the item up. (Don’t get me started on the college student who tried to pick up an Ikea wardrobe on a bicycle.)

Only give directions to your place if there’s still several hours of daylight left. Otherwise, I guarantee you’re going to have someone tromping around your house later in the evening than you would like. (I learned this point when someone set off my security system banging around my porch at 1 AM picking up an old vacuum cleaner I was giving away.)

As a matter of safety (and also convenience for the person picking up the item) I also recommend wherever possible leaving items on your porch rather than inviting someone you don’t know into your home. And if you’re leaving several different items on your porch, label to whom each is supposed to go. I found this cut down on people showing up and helping themselves to items other than just what they were supposed to pick up.

7. “The Great Giveaway”
This one was pretty much my own invention. I have to confess to having a personal loathing of garage sales. I don’t like the experience of people showing up on my porch at 5 AM “to beat the rush” or sifting through my worldly possessions and trying to haggle over something priced at a quarter. But the potential to find homes for much of my remaining “misfit” items was too great to ignore, so I devised The Great Giveaway.

What this consisted of was inviting a bunch of local friends and college students I know to come by anytime during three different timeslots/days I named. I clearly marked everything that was up for grabs. All people were expected to “pay” was their effort to cart the stuff away. I used this method to divest myself of a bunch of craft supplies, camping gear, and old Target bookshelves I’ve been carting from place to place from my college days.

Undoubtedly many of those items could also have been donated but it would have taken multiple trips using my car. Moreover, I found it far easier to give away things like my treasured cache of fabric to friends than it would have been to strangers.

I’ve subsequently seen an online version similar to my strategy where someone posted a Flickr album of items they were giving away for free and allowed people to claim them. That is another way to do something similar.

8. The Town Dump
For some, strange reason I’d never actually been to a dump before my downsizing project. I don’t know if I thought there would be seedy characters there doing drug-deals or what, but it was definitely an eye-opening experience to see the mound of stuff people leave behind. (It certainly makes you think twice about the things you buy–especially when you see how much that has been thrown away that is still clearly usable.)

The trash was pretty much my channel of last resort, but I had two carloads of stuff like soggy cardboard boxes (that had never been successfully throw away after my last move), old xeroxed research articles, etc. that really had nowhere else to go.

For anyone else who’s never gone to their local dump, usually the way it works with residential vehicles is that they either charge you by the vehicle-load or they weigh you entering and leaving the dump and charge you based on weight. I ended up paying roughly $30 for two carloads.

9. Renting a Dumpster
dumpsterAs I progressed further into the process of downscaling, I realized I was going to either need to make several more trips to the dump (which was 45 minutes each way) or I was going to need to find a better way to manage the garbage.

I called my local trash service to see if it was possible to get a larger trash container and learned that most cities make available various size dumpsters for a rental charge. The dumpster you tend to find behind commercial establishments are referred to as “roll-offs”. I ended up renting something roughly half that size and paid approximately $100 total for a month’s rental, including delivery, pick-up, and disposal of the contents. Depending on how much garbage you have to get rid of, you can also schedule additional trash pick-ups during the term of your rental. I didn’t have that much stuff, however.

The dumpster ended up being a true godsend in terms of getting rid of a large quantity of junk quickly. I only wish I’d discovered this option earlier in the process.

The only negative I experienced with the dumpster is people coming by to dumpster-dive in the early mornings. More than anything, that was an issue of noise. It was actually a bit of a relief that people more motivated than I were finding homes for items I hadn’t managed to.

10. Photo Scanning Service
I had a large hatbox which is stuffed to the brim with pictures that has followed me from location to location since college. I always had the good intention of sorting through all the photos, organizing them, and putting them into albums. I felt guilty every time I caught sight of that box and, after ten years of this insanity, I decided that I refused to move the box one more time.

Instead of taking the box of photos with me to Portland, for a little under $100, I had a photo scanning service take my mound of photos and put them into nice, neat digital files which I could dump into my iPhoto application and sort to my heart’s content.

Now, admittedly, media formats will change over the years. But I figure it’s far easier for me to transfer my photos from an old computer to new one than to deal with fading paper pictures for which I no longer have negatives or any sort of organizational system.

11. Converting to MP3
Fortunately, I already had about 95% of my music collection converted to MP3′s on my laptop. I converted the rest to MP3′s over the course of a weekend while packing. Then I turned in my three boxes worth of CD’s to the local college used bookstore and donated the credit to a local literacy program.

While it’s possible that I might someday regret having given away my hard copies, I haven’t had a reason to use an actual CD in several years. I am also careful to back up my computer’s full hard drive on a regular basis. The cost-to-benefit ratio of continuing to cart and store those three boxes of CD’s as back-up was just didn’t make sense to me.

12. Giving Away Books, Going Digital, and Shifting to the Library
Of all the things I did to downsize, drastically reducing my book collection was probably the most difficult step I took. Over the course of about a week, I forced myself to go through all of my bookshelves and select the books I simply HAD to take with me to Portland. I packed them as I went.

Then, I pulled all the remaining books from my bookshelves and stacked them into boxes headed to the used bookstore. If anything else caught my eye in the process of packing the “donate” boxes, I set it off to the side. Then, at the very end, I went through this stack and picked out the true treasures I’d missed. Everything else went into a “donate box”.

Through this process I ended up reducing my collection by enough books to fill my PT Cruiser to the roof, with the back seat pulled out, TWICE.

To help ease the pain of separation, I took a portion of the credit I received for turning in my books and bought an Amazon Kindle, which allows me to acquire and store new books digitally.

As a further proactive step to try to slow my re-accumulation of books, I’ve forced myself to develop the habit of not buying any book if it’s available through my local public library system. There’s only been one book I’ve checked out from the library that I found valuable enough to subsequently purchase for my permanent collection.

And, that, ladies and gents, is how I managed to downscale my belongings by two-thirds in less than six weeks. Hopefully some of these strategies will be useful to you in your own attempts to downsize.

By way of a very quick epilogue to my journey in simplifying, I’d like to say that, with the exception of one or two items, I don’t regret anything I off-loaded. In fact, having been forced to store most of my remaining possessions in a storage unit for ten months while renovations were completed on my new place, I’ve come to realize I don’t need a lot of what I kept.

While the process of downsizing can be a lot of work, the end result more than makes up for it. I really enjoy the sense of space and freedom I have now. I’ve come to realize that clutter comes with more than just physical costs. It weighs down on you emotionally. Getting rid of it frees a lot of energy and resources that can be directed in far more productive areas of your life like spending time with loved ones, hobbies, or even possibly getting rid of more clutter. In an odd way, the cycle of decluttering can actually become addictive.

Give me some time. I just might become a minimalist yet!

Stephanie lives in a 550 square foot floating home outside of Portland, OR.  You can read more of her writing at ComingUnmoored.com.  You can also follow her on Twitter.

An Introduction to the Journal

Posted March 22nd, 2009 by Stephanie Reiley and filed in Issue 1: Introductions

Tiny house in meadowWelcome to the first issue of Small Living Journal! SLJ is the joint project of several writers who are currently active in the Small Home Movement.

Each of the writers on this site are enthusiastically busy with their own projects including: blogs, books, documentaries, community forums, and blueprints of new tiny home designs. However, over the course of time, each of us ended up crossing one another’s path and discovered how much we enjoy interacting with others who are passionate about the same subjects as we were: tiny homes, simple living, sustainable architecture, financial integrity, and the like.

Writing can be, at times, a lonely business–possibly even more so in the case of people with subject-matter that is contrary to the mainstream way of thinking. And, let’s face it, most people would consider someone whose ultimate dream in life is to live in a space of playhouse-size proportions a little… weird.

Until very recently, the concept of living in a space 500 sq. feet or less was definitely contrary to the American mainstream in all but the most dense of cities. In fact, from the 1950′s onward, the American home seemed to be ever increasing in size and grandiosity with little regard to the costs to either individuals or the environment. (Per the latest real estate sale information, this trend finally changed in the fourth quarter of last year.)

It wasn’t until the recent decline in housing values, failure of the sub-prime housing industry, and subsequent impact to the broader U.S. and world economies that most people were willing to consider any solution out of the norm when it came to housing options. Now, however, there is an increasing amount of media attention on any form of cheap housing solution. Older inner city homes, yurts, tiny houses on wheel, houseboats, RV’s, log cabins and the like are now featuring on the evening news and regular pieces in the New York Times.

I’ll be the first to admit that the small shift in mainstream mindset toward more modest housing options has been exciting to many members of the small home movement. But we realize that there’s a long way to go in terms of right-sizing the “American Dream”.  In the meantime, the group of us on SLJ thought it would serve a useful purpose to have a website where we could regularly release articles that might prove useful to people interested in downsizing their lives to more manageable proportions. (Not to mention, it’s great fun for the writers to have a chance to interact and discuss ideas with one another in the generation of the individual issues.)

Each of the writers who’ve chosen to be involved with SLJ has their own unique experiences and perspective on the small home movement. We hope you take as much pleasure in discovering these differences as we have in the creation of the issues.

Going forward, we plan to post a new issue every other week on Monday mornings. Each issue will be coordinated by a different writer involved with the project and focus on a specific topic of interest to the small home movement such as different options for housing, challenges with zoning, financing the building a small home, etc.

In the first issue, each of the writers shares a brief bio and explanation of how they came to be involved in the small home movement. In the second issue, we will focus on some of the challenges inherent in downsizing enough to fit into a small home.

Below is the schedule of upcoming issues and topics:

  • Issue 2 – Downsizing   4/6/09
  • Issue 3 – Personal Tiny Home Tours 4/20/09
  • Issue 4 – Do It Yourself 5/4/09
  • Issue 5 – Future Planning 5/18/09

Others who are interested in the small home movement are welcome to submit articles for consideration as guest posts in each of the issues.  If you’re interested in contributing something, please use the Contact page to reach us.

We hope that you will continue to follow the project in the ongoing weeks and contribute your own thoughts and ideas to the ongoing conversation surrounding sustainable housing.  SLJ can also be followed via RSS Feed or Twitter.

And with that, I’ll conclude with a quote from one of the most inspiring members of the small home movement, Jay Shafer: “Viva la tiny revolution!”

I hope you enjoy the first issue.


Finding the Right Road

“If You Don’t Know Where You’re Going, Any Road Will Get You There.”

–The Cheshire Cat, Alice In Wonderland

Steph in VeniceHave you ever been traveling somewhere and been struck by an increasingly unsettling feeling that you somehow drifted off course?  And that you have no idea how to get yourself turned around but you have a feeling that the longer you wait to figure it out, the farther off course  you’re probably going to get?

Well, I spent the better  part of 10 years of my life feeling that way before I made a hard right turn and managed to get back on track.

I am probably the last person you would expect to find living in a tiny house.  I love spending time at home, and I’m not shy about liking my creature comforts.  Like, say, a few thousand books.

About three years ago, though, I came to the realization that there’s very little that’s “comfortable” about owning a 3,000+ square foot house accompanied with the corresponding mortgage, tax burden, upkeep and maintenance, and all the associated crap one tends to store inside one.  (And I swear possessions stored in a large house are capable of reproducing faster than extra-libidinous rabbits.)

At the time I was married.  My husband was a trust-fund baby and  quite financially successful in his own right.  He also did a substantial amount of entertaining at home as part of his job recruiting faculty for a fairly well-known business college.  A sprawling house in the Tucson foothills was one of the expected trappings of his social circle. (“Come work for us and you, too, can have a place like this!”)

I would be lying if I said there weren’t many days when I felt fortunate to be living in such a beautiful home. I especially adored the views of the mountains from my den windows.  But, man, was I glad I wasn’t the one footing the bill for the mortgage every month.  I paid a hefty enough price just trying prevent the damn thing from crumbling into the state of disrepair it seemed determined to crawl relentlessly toward.

CersaillesKeeping up with the house involved a small army of support staff: a maid service; a landscape crew; a pool maintenance guy; a handyman service for minor monthly repairs; a carpet and upholstery cleaning service; an air-conditioning and heating service; two extermination services (one for insects and one for the Pack-Rat Liberation Movement that seemed determine to reclaim our place in the name of all thing furry); and a whole host of appliance repair men.  The house was big enough that it required three separate air conditioners to cool in the summers, and two heaters and three fireplaces to warm in the winter.  In order to stay on top of just the staff who helped us with the house required that I create a separate Rolodex of business cards.  I kid you not.  And our privacy was constantly being disturbed by some caretaker arriving to perform their ongoing duties.

I wasn’t working at the time but it felt like I had at least a half-time job just staying on top of everyone coming and going from our property.  And–get this– we were paying several thousands of dollars a month for the privilege of this experience.

Even before my divorce, I had been aware of the Small Home Movement.  Sometime around 2002, my mother had sent me a newspaper clipping of Jay Shafer and his wonderful little Tumbleweed Tiny Houses.  Periodically, I would pull up his website, look wistfully at pictures of tiny homes, and dream of a much simpler existence. I was also such a huge fan of Thoreau’s Walden back in college that I convinced my favorite professor to allow me to do a semester’s independent study on the house. (For about ten years, I even had a bonsai I raised from a maple seedling that came from Walden Pond.)


I dreamed of a similar tiny place in solitude of my very own.  I didn’t have the faintest idea how to get there, though.  I was just so hugely off-course from anything resembling that.

I was living in a place that was the absolute antithesis of a tiny home.  I was running in a social-circle which emphasized the gross display of wealth and viewed material consumption as a form of recreational activity.  Everyone was working hard at impressing one another with how successful they all were.  (Admittedly, everyone was running around so fast it didn’t seem like they actually enjoyed any of it.)  And even if I somehow managed to shed the house and convince my partner to embark on a lifetime of simplicity, there was still several moving trucks full of possessions that wouldn’t fit into a smaller place.

It certainly wasn’t due to our house alone, but there were many days when I fantasized about tucking a cat under each arm, walking out the front door, and never looking back.  In a particularly desperate moment, I convinced my husband to consider building me a “studio” in the 5 acres out back to be constructed along my more simplistic ideals.  Thankfully, the project never came to pass.  Hiding out back in a tiny house wasn’t going to fix the mess I’d made for myself.

Steph's tiny floating home (sideview)Eventually, for reasons having to do with a lot more than just the materialistic lifestyle, my marriage deteriorated to the point that I chose to physically separate from my husband.  Moving into a 1,000 square foot rental property with all of my belongings helped me to come to terms with how much of the associated crap–material and otherwise– was actually mine rather than his. (Hey, they say recognizing you have a problem is the first step in the road to recovery…)

I don’t think anyone has a good divorce. For the record, mine sucked in many, many ways.   But it also gave me one priceless gift–a chance to rebuild my life in a way that made sense to me. And, while waiting for the end result of all the legal wrangling to be over, I had the time to really think about what it was I valued.

Here is what I came up with…  I cherished the time I didn’t have to spend in an office.  I wanted to spend a minimal amount of time earning a living. Instead, I wanted to spend as much of my limited remaining time on the planet enjoying friends and loved ones, nature, good books, good food and wine, and creative projects.  I didn’t want to have to worry about paying for and maintaining a bunch of junk I didn’t have the time or energy to use because I was too busy working to pay for it all.

Marina in OregonI didn’t even want to keep the stuff I already owned and had aspirations of someday using.  Like, say, the ten different musical instruments I had dreamed of someday learning to play.  I decided to pick the things that were truly dear to me (like my cello) and focus on those, and free up the rest of the stuff to find homes where they could be better used.

After quite a bit of thinking and research, I finally settled on my tiny home in the form of a 550 square foot floating home which sits in the Columbia River outside of Portland.  A portion of my divorce settlement went into the initial purchase.  I also have returned to the workforce as a consultant, which has helped greatly with renovation costs on my place but also present challenges in terms of my free time.  I’m still actively working to find the right balance there.

I’m afraid there hasn’t been much in the way of  “simple living” going on during the past year in which I’ve been restoring my place.  (It was in need of some serious work when I bought it.)  However, the past year’s journey has also been immensely rewarding to me on an emotional and social level.

There are still many more challenges to be met like finishing my place and establishing the right work/life balance.  At this point, I just keep putting one foot in front of the other while keeping my eye on the course.

The road I’m on certainly seems to have a fair share of potholes.  But, at least now, I’m on the right road.


For more information on Stephanie and her tiny floating home, you can read the following at her blog, Coming Unmoored:

Gone crazy.  Back soon.  (Or maybe not.)

One Upon a Time, There Was Way Too Much Stuff

Moments of Clarity in Lowes

You can also follow her on Twitter.

A Call for Guest Authors

Posted March 22nd, 2009 by Stephanie Reiley and filed in Issue 1: Introductions

Would you like to have an article in a future edition of Small Living Journal? Fresh voices and perspectives on subjects of interest to the Small Home Movement are welcome!

Please use the Contact page to reach us for details on how to submit an article for consideration and limit your submissions to subjects slated for upcoming issues.  (You are also welcome to make suggestions for what you’d like to see future issues cover.)

  • Issue 2: Downsizing and Decluttering – Submissions due by 12 PM EST on March 29
  • Issue 3: Personal Small Home Tours – Submissions due by 12 PM EST  on April 12
  • Issue 4: Do It Yourself – Submissions due by 12 PM on April 26
  • Issue 5: Planning for the Future – Submissions due by 12 PM on May 10

We look forward to hearing from you!