Seaworthy Living

About once every 6 months or so, our 1300 square foot stone cottage starts to swell. You can almost see the house's pulse from the street. I re-arrange and re-organize and purge clutter and try to set up new play areas for my daughter's toys, the dog's toys, the cat's neuroses, my husband's books and my bags. And then, I start feeling antsy under the pressure, and before I know it, I'm wandering over to the local Realtor website of area listings.

Of the thousands of listings, there is usually only one that peaks my interest and then I obsess about it, decide that ultimately it won't work for some reason or another, and then re-commit to the cottage, promising to be a better resident, devoted to finding new creative solutions to the challenges of a small space. I have always dreamed of living at sea, and this is a nice trial run at togetherness. We just need those nautical cabinets in the house with latches to secure everything and clean off the surfaces.

A year ago, we found the perfect house for us and it sold within 5 hours of going on the market. But in retrospect, we were secretly relieved that it sold so fast, because if it hadn't, and we were actually confronted with all of that space, it would have been a difficult decision.

For all of the challenges of a small house, I am comforted that no one is ever alone in the cottage, that one load of laundry can make the entire house smell like clean cotton, that cooking in our kitchen is always done elbow to elbow. You can't stay mad at anyone in the cottage because, like being on a boat, there's just not space to walk away. Music is shared. Dancing is encouraged. Cuddles are sometimes accidental. But it's home.

I just have to remind myself, each time I feel an impluse to take on more of a mortgage, how wonderful it is to have a cozy English cottage that we can fill up with books and tea and brio trains.