Rule One: The Doctor lies.
I’m not a Time Lord, but I do occasionally make statements involving promises like “big reveal later this week” that are just plain stupid. As I twisted myself into strange pretzel-like shapes unfit for even the most hardcore yoga practitioners in an attempt to photograph my house without including all the raw edges and the black handprints on the walls that scream “my husband is a dirty welder,” it occurred to me that I am in something of a predicament.
The tiny house is so close to being finished that if I post a big update right now, it will be really fun and exciting, except for the part where I don’t have window trim. Or a sofa. Or light switch and outlet covers. Or a bathroom door… which raises some really uncomfortable questions from our visitors, because we’ve actually been living in the tiny house for almost a month; but there are some experiences you just can’t express with words. Am I right? Seriously, though – our house has exploded with beautiful colors and curious objects (if you’re with me on Facebook, you know about my animal-shaped kitchen gadget problems), but it’s lacking just enough of the important stuff that I am hesitant to ruin the surprise.
I’ve expressed this sentiment to a handful of persistent individuals who have threatened to throw me out a high window in response, but I still just can’t bring myself to do it. My personal goal for wrapping up the last few details is June 7, so that in honor of our first anniversary, John and I can proudly share every last nook, cranny, and special quirk of our unique little home!
In the meantime, since I’m still working on a slightly longer post about what it’s been like so far to live together in 192 square feet of awesomeness, here is a detail shot of my super snazzy corner bookshelf that I finished last night.
Despite pulling all my project measurements out of dark and uncomfortable places (mostly because you get the dimensions you get when you’re working with scrap or salvaged materials), I came out with exactly enough space to store all of my books, right down to the last inch. It was amazing. Cutting and painting the plywood was nothing special, but I also cut and finished the metal and did all my own welding on the mounts! And I only whined a little bit about blistering my thumb and forearm with hot flux, but that’s more because my husband’s hands and arms usually look like he got into a fist fight with a burning house, and he’s not exactly very sympathetic on that front.
And finally, last but certainly not least, you may have noticed that I changed the name of my blog. If you’re thinking about commenting specifically to say that Rush is not one of the greatest bands of all time, here’s a bit of advice: Don’t. I have always loved this song, but as time goes on and my life grows ever more beautiful, I find myself more and more deeply moved by a single expression:
The blacksmith and the artist reflect it in their art;
They forge their creativity, closer to the heart.
(Rush, “Closer to the Heart”)
Because if that doesn’t sum it all up, then I don’t know what does.