Update: I Still Love My Small House

So it’s been seven years since we bought our small house after living in two large rental houses (and a five-bedroom two-story for many years before that). You live differently in a small house than in a large one, and it took me a while to figure that out. (I included what I learned in my eBook Secrets of Small-House Living, written a few years after we moved here.)

Now I’m used to living in a small house, but it has not become routine for me. I still love only having two bathroom sinks to clean instead of four. I greatly appreciate being able to plug the vacuum in the middle of the house and do all the vacuuming without once unplugging it, much less lugging it up and down steps as I did for many years.

Perhaps the thing I love best about my small house is that I don’t have to spend too much time or money on it, which frees up both things to be used for other pursuits. Every bit of time I don’t spend caring for a larger house can be spent reading, writing, gardening, or sewing. Every dollar I don’t spend on this house can be saved, or spent on travel. And we’re not talking about just a few bucks. The property taxes on this house are 1/3 of what we once paid on our large house. Now that’s quite a bit of savings!

There are downsides of living in a small house, but they’re quite minor. I’m aware that a couple of relatives are appalled by the fact that we gave up our lovely huge house for something that can best be described as modest. Oh, well, I gave up caring what they thought long ago.

Another negative is that sometimes I feel cooped up, especially now that it’s winter. But I’m solving that in two ways: I’ve turned a spare bedroom into a reading room, so that I have somewhere to sit and read besides the living room, and I’m making more of an effort to go for walks (all bundled up, of course) and meet friends for coffee now and then. These are things that I should have done long ago, because they are both quite enjoyable, and I find that afterwards, I return to my little house with a new sense of appreciation along the lines of “Be It Ever So Humble, There’s No Place Like Home.”

Decluttering, Denial and Retirement

(The third of three posts on Decluttering and Denial.)

We were pushing 50 when we were forced into downsizing our lives. Our kids were going out on their own, and while we still had a few years before the younger ones left home, it was clear that we no longer needed our 5-bedroom house. Empty nests don’t need to be that big.

So we discovered the freedom of living small, and we love it. But the act of giving up so many belongings, and moving to a much smaller house (so long, two-story foyer and giant master suite) made perfect sense for a couple heading toward retirement age. That said, accepting that we were that couple was kind of hard. I much preferred to think of the whole exercise as a prudent financial move than something that was appropriate for people our age.

The fact is that most people our age don’t have unlimited funds. Buying ever bigger houses and nicer furniture, and redecorating every few years, is fine for millionaires, but for us normal people, well, we don’t have that kind of money. For those of us who lost livelihoods in the lousy economy of the 2000s, it’s imperative that we live carefully, even frugally, because we don’t have a big, fat retirement account or pension awaiting us. We put everything into our businesses and our families, and now that those are gone, we need to look out for ourselves.

But those who are in denial about the fact that they’re nearing retirement age, and live like they’re still young and amassing houses and possessions, are putting themselves in danger.  It used to be common sense that you paid off your mortgage before retirement so that no matter what happened, you’d always have a roof over your head. Now people are retiring with mortgages, multiple car loans and several credit card accounts nearing their limits. Retiring on a fixed income with that kind of debt load is a recipe for disaster.

Denying what I see in the mirror, that I am getting closer to retirement age, would be an exercise in futility. Time marches on. Those of us who can admit that and make the tough decisions that will minimize future pain (including decluttering and downsizing as well as paying off debt) are doing ourselves a big favor. Those who remain in denial had better have ample retirement funds.

How to Get Over Decluttering Regret

It’s been seven years since we completed our massive decluttering effort, and six years since our grandchildren began arriving. What this means is that from time to time, I find myself wishing I still had something I got rid of, usually something that a grandchild would have liked or that one of my adult children who is now a parent wishes I had saved.

This is tough. That regret is painful. I can picture the item so clearly in my mind, but it’s long gone.

The most recent example is educational toys. I once had a fine collection, curated over many years of raising a large family. But I let go of most of it when we moved to the small house we live in now. There just wasn’t any room for it.

According to her pediatrician, one of our grandchildren may be gifted. This child has a very active mind and body and needs to be kept busy; her response to boredom is to get into trouble. Her parents have discovered that keeping her occupied with challenging puzzles and other activities is the key to saving their collective sanity.

I understand completely, and wistfully imagine how nice it would be to give them all those great educational toys we once had. But they’re gone.

I’ve begun to see, however, that it’s a complete waste of time to regret this, and particularly to dwell on it. It’s not as though there are no other educational toys left in the world. Rather than mourn the loss of what we had, I’ve been taking that energy and putting it into finding new educational toys for my tiny tornado, as I fondly call my very active granddaughter.

I’ve been checking out thrift stores and garage sales, and what I’ve discovered is that many kids are given educational toys, but few use them. So I’m finding very nice puzzles, games and other toys in like-new condition for mere pennies. Sometimes the packages are still sealed!

I buy these things and keep them at home until I see my grandchild. Until that happens, they take up space in my little house, so I’m glad to get them out of here. And, of course, my grandchild and her folks are thrilled with them.

There are no strings to these gifts, no emotional attachment involved. They can keep them or get rid of them once she’s bored with them. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m just happy to help out.

This is a new attitude for me. If I’d kept all of my kids’ educational toys, I’d be saying things like, “Give it back to me when she’s tired of it in case another grandchild needs it,” or “Don’t let her rip that, it was yours when you were little.” I would want that collection to be preserved.

But it’s gone. These “new” items are serving a purpose for a time and then they will be gone, too. That’s OK. There’s a lot of freedom in doing things this way, and the end result is that my house stays uncluttered. So much for decluttering regret!

A Tale of Two Downsizers

It is far, far better to willingly downsize your life than to lose everything and to be forced into doing so. I’ve lived the first situation, and have witnessed the second, so I feel that I speak with some authority on this subject.

Someone close to me had a very high income for much of their adult life. I’m talking several hundred thousand dollars annually. Occasionally they would lose their job, which is common in their industry, but they would quickly find another, often at a higher rate of pay, which was also common in their industry.

And so during the 80s and 90s, and for several years after the turn of the century, they lived very well indeed. With houses in two of the five most expensive housing markets in the country, plus land in Hawaii that was going to become the site of their vacation home, they were riding high. There were cruises, expensive cars, designer clothes and shoes, gorgeous furniture….they were living the life they always desired.

Then came a job loss that was not followed by a new job. By then, they were well into their 40s, and soon discovered that getting hired was no longer a sure thing. Before long, one house had to be sold, and then another. The land in Hawaii was sold for a third of its market value. The cars were sold, too, as was the furniture, once a rental townhome became the best possible housing option. But the credit card debt was insurmountable, so bankruptcy ensued.

But they would not give up on getting the dream back again. Even though they own nothing now, they’ve been renting a small place in one of the extremely expensive cities where they once owned a home. They’re working two jobs, and barely surviving. Their sole car is leased, with one year to go. Some of their credit cards are maxed out already; they also owe money to a couple of generous friends and relatives.

I’m very worried about this person, but they laugh off my concerns, even after all they’ve been through. (I could not live with the stress of their lifestyle, and I no longer have the energy to work two jobs, if I ever did.) And with retirement looming around the corner for both of us, I can’t imagine what they’re going to do if they don’t hit it big again (an unlikely event), given their addiction to a pricey lifestyle.

I am grateful for my simple, small house, my paid-off old cars, and having no debts. I don’t know where my husband and I would be today if we hadn’t willingly downsized our lives 11 years ago. I sure wish the person I’ve described here would have done what we did.

(Learn how we and others have proactively downsized our lives in my book, Downsizing Your Life for Freedom, Flexibility and Financial Peace.)