MIND NUMBINGLY SIMILAR NEW MCMANSION TRACK HOMES FROM ADAMS CUSTOM BUILDERS
Wouldn't everyone love a McMansion? There is a lot to be said for new. New everything. Nothing needing repair, or updating. Just square foot after square foot of brand spanking new. At this time in my life when my bathroom is nothing but a toilet and a bunch of rubble, and I am surrounded by tools and paint brushes and color swatches, done sounds dreamy. But even with all of that new, I have to ask, where is the soul?
They are created, I'm convinced, by focus groups. A landowner hires a group of people and asks them to list the trendy and hot items in home layouts and fixtures. I imagine them all sitting around a conference table. "Granite countertops!" one yells out. "Laundry rooms," calls another. The result is a home chock full of every bell and whistle known to man. And they are everywhere! The ubiquitous big signs and flags beckoning you in to yet another development, each house a clone of the next. So much so that you need not actually venture into one in order to list the amenities. You can guarantee there will be a great room connected to the kitchen, a powder room and a laundry room. Granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Three to five bedrooms and a formal living room. And always - always two sinks in the master bathroom.
My house was not created by a focus group. At times I am convinced my house was designed by clowns on crack. My house is small. Not standard suburban small, but real life cottage small at 800 square feet. Plain old S M A L L.
Small houses are usually economic decisions. Mine was. I will not sit here and write that if I could have afforded a larger house I would have turned it down. I won't lie and say that I am perfectly happy sharing a bathroom with Scott everyday or having to buy compact appliances to fit in my tiny kitchen. But the surprising thing is that I would not want a different house. I would have my house plus a library and a master suite - with two sinks. I like stainless steel appliances. And hardwood floors are wonderful. But it's how you put it together that matters. Not how fast you can get it on the market or how much you can make it look like a magazine.
I like my small house. My small house allows me to save my money for other things. It forces me to edit my belongings and surround myself only with things that I love and use and need. It keeps me from accumulating junk or buying things on a whim. My small house is mine – envisioned, designed, and (for the most part) built by me. And exactly how I want.
Having a small house has recently come into vogue. I love what Sarah Susanka has to say about the "Not So Big House." How she talks about making room for what really matters. In your house, and in your life. Living consciously instead of in competition or for the next big thing. The connection with the outdoors which is something that is huge for us. This idea of living in a space that is just the right size, and lessening our impact on the environment is great. Having a small house forces you to get creative and let some things go.
My wish is that everyone knew the joy of enough. Enough money, enough space, enough stuff, enough time. Being happy with what you have and living not within but well below your means is a wonderful thing. I do love to look at giant homes and admire their spaciousness, but I'm grateful for the lessons my home is teaching me, and the benefits of living Not So Big.
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