Things rarely come at the right time or the way you expect them. Living in a sunny (or not, it depends where) California for almost 20 years and dreaming of a perfect home... Oh well, good luck with those SF Victorians or even anything decent in the city! Lost hopes for Oakland, too. Get what you can and be happy!
We bought a house (or what is considered a starter home in the US) in 2004, at the height of one of the real estate market craziness. Many people were chasing homes and we got into the chasing mode, too. Guess what? Many offers lost and $100,000 more spend (borrowed from the bank, to be precise) than planned, we got a tiny house but the big yard. In the suburbs, of course - forget your dreams to live in a city. Kids were still tiny, so the big yard was one of the priorities for a mom whose main job was going to the park with a playground because kiddos were bored in a tiny apartment space. Well, no less than a mom, herself.
The starter house turned into a long-term residence and 13 years later, we're still in a starter home because the promised American dream - you start with what you can, then move to the next level (size and location wise) a few years later, got lost in the "always in the highest demand" San Francisco Bay Area...
1,200 square feet (~111sq. meters) home is considered a tiny or starter space in America. And only 1 bathroom! Almost unimaginable by the local standards! Well, we grew up with even less than that…
At first, children were small and one bathroom was OK. When they started stretching out and taking more and more time in the bathroom, I could see the dark clouds coming. And I don't even talk about the guests who were showing up once in a while.
The good thing, when you’re limited, you’re pushed to look for solutions and use your imagination. A mini second toilet was born out of the old laundry room where a toilet, mini sink, and stackable washer/dryer was somehow squeezed in. The second toilet seat became a real saver when babies turned into teens who enjoy spending 20 + minutes in the bathroom. Doing what? Don’t ask, won’t tell. When you have a big urge…just run to the backyard, all private (shhh...)
The next challenge crawled in when babies became taller than me and space suddenly felt even smaller than before. Their voices (the boys', to be correct) got deep and big, and the thin, earthquake ready Californian walls became totally helpless to hide conversations coming from other rooms.
My professional destiny somehow wanted me to be a freelancer, which means I'm stuck working from home. Due to the space limitations, a dining table is my only option for an office desk, but I somehow got into the habit of working on the couch. People who spend a lot of time on a couch (mostly watching TV) are called “couch potatoes” in America, so I basically became a working couch potato.
During the school year, it’s still manageable to get some work done because I have my peace till 3 pm, but summer is a different story. This year my 14-year-old son declared that summer camps are for babies and he'll better enjoy his summer the way he wants which translates into spending 8+ hours at the computer - playing/chatting/ laughing/screaming with his friends. Multiple negotiations brought zero results - summer is for fun, amen. I wasn't aware that a teen brain can go back to the terrible two's stage - live and learn.
Good or bad things usually come in multiples. On one of those peaceful Summer Saturdays, while enjoying my solitude with the Michael's Pollan book "A place on my own", a phone rang announcing the end of my delightful solitude. During his rather safe bike ride, my husband happened to fell off the bike and injured himself. It looked serious. The medical verdict - one of the leg bones is broken and the surgery will be needed, as well as 3+ months on crutches and many days working from home, which translates into one more adult voice in a tiny space - teleconferences, calls, etc.
The book "A place on my own" suddenly transformed into a bible that promised to bring hope and salvage. In the book, the author tells his story of how he decided and built his little studio. "A would be nice to have" studio became a burning necessity and... an obsession. Michael Pollan (the author) was ambitious enough to build his place mostly on his own what was out of the question in my case.
Hours and hours were spent on the web - browsing, looking at hundreds of options for a shed/ studio/ office, ranging from a chicken coop to an upscale + super expensive garden paradise. But dreams can take you only as far as your wallet allows, amen.
The wallet had to stretch, unfortunately, because the cheapest version looked more like a big dark box/prison cell and nothing like a studio I can see myself being somehow productive.
Fast forward three months… tons of emails/inquiries, browsing, calculations, calls, trips, headaches and mind changing... the place is here, in the yard, standing proud and comfortable as if it was its destiny to be here for years...
The story about the process itself - in another post.
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