One of my favorite things to do is watch Netflix documentaries. Its way better than watching regular movies because, even if they're terrible, you actually learn something and its not a total waste of your time. The only other thing I'll put on these days are those cheesy Investigation Discovery series, you know, the "Wives with Knives" or "When Love Kills" type shows. They're very easy to binge-watch so you gotta be careful; I can't tell you how many times I've had the intention of only watching one episode and ended up seeing the sunrise with those things. But God, do I love a good Netflix doc. There's been a slew of good ones lately -- BOUND BY FLESH, BURTS BUZZ, HONEYBADGERS: MASTERS OF MAYEM....There's a good chance I might blow through everything they have on there before the end of the month, which is a scary thought. A world with no Netlfix documentaries? THE HORROR.
Anyway, one night last week I decided to watch TINY, the documentary about the tiny house movement that follows one couple's adventure building their own little house in Colorado. If you're not familiar with the concept, these are people who pare down their life in order to live in teeny, 100-square foot homes built on wheels or in packing crates. Needless to say, I became completely obsessed and dropped down a week-long rabbit hole of tiny house research on the interwebs. Now lets be realistic here, I am not the kind of person who could ever live in a tiny house. My one bedroom is closer to 400 square feet with a backyard and I consider that cramped. Plus my obsession with strange objects and love of entertaining would make that kind of life impossible. But there was something about that film I couldn't shake. These people were living life on their terms, their budgets, doing things their way. It was like they found a loophole leading to a very different kind of American Dream. They'd boiled their life down to focus on three basic essentials: Their relationships, nature, and living in an ecologically and economically responsible manner. I couldn't stop thinking about these people who had somehow cheated the system. I want to start living my life on my own terms too.
When you're living in one of the most expensive cities in the world, the idea of someday owning property is a pipedream. You either need to win the lottery or wait patiently until you meet somebody you can tolerate and trust enough to pool your money with. And even then you have to drop a million dollars on something thats maybe 400 square feet and in an "up-and-coming" neighborhood. The idea of spending that much on an apartment has never been appealing to me. I grew up in the woods, man. I want a house with a view and a couple a trees, at least. But buying a house outside the city is just as expensive, if not more so, and the idea of living in suburbia makes me sick to my stomach. Either way, buying an apartment or house while I'm single is absolutely impossible and thats frustrating. But then I started thinking. What is most important to me? What is the shape of my life right now and what do I need to do to streamline it? How can I break outside this ridiculous NY system? How can I make the city work for me?
And then it came to me. I'm just going to buy a piece of land. I'm going spend the next few years looking for the perfect little piece of property upstate. Close enough to commute, but far enough away so that its really, truly in the woods. It doesn't need to be huge. A half acre would suffice. I'm going to buy that piece of land and then I'm going to build a cabin. Something small, but not tiny, maybe 600 square feet. Enough room for a couple bedrooms, a kitchen, a cozy little den. Maybe a couple porches. When you think about it, thats larger than most NYC apartments. Tiny houses can cost around 25K-30K build and my Dad thinks it wouldn't cost that much more to make something twice the size. (He knows, he built our garage and half our house.) And then you're done. You have yourself a little house. If I wanted to live there fulltime and save money, I could. If I wanted to hang out there on weekends and rent a smaller apartment in the city, I could. If I wanted to rent it out and stay in my expensive apartment, I could. And if I someday meet someone worthy of money-pooling, we could buy a bigger house or an even nicer apartment and I'd still have my little hidey hole in the wilderness to satisfy the part of me who wants to live in the trees.
A cabin in the woods. That is possible for me right now. And that's a really gratifying thing to know.
