Member-only story

Tiny Thoughts in a Tiny House

Trying to find some peace of mind in a tiny home.

Peter Schooff
Human Parts
5 min readAug 28, 2024

--

Photo by Nachelle Nocom on Unsplash

It’s early morning, pre-dawn, and I’m wide awake in the bed of a rented tiny home. My feet press up against one wall, my head against the other, forcing me to curl slightly to fit into the cramped bed. The house is indeed tiny, just as advertised. When we first arrived, I joked that the place was so small they could only fit single-ply toilet paper in the bathroom.

As I lie in bed, it feels like I could almost reach out and jiggle the toilet handle without getting up. The place isn’t that small, but the toilet is running, filling the early morning hush with an insistent gurgling sound. And the microwave clock is blinking, flashing an eerie green glow. These minor annoyances are keeping me awake.

To address these issues, I’ll have to get out of bed, but I’m not ready yet. Once I do, I’ll be up for good, and I’m still clinging to the hope of a few more precious hours of sleep. I worry that I haven’t gotten enough rest, and I also worry that I’m worrying too much. What I need more than anything is peace of mind, something that has eluded me back home.

Home is currently in Vancouver, Washington, a suburb of Portland, Oregon. My fiancee and I have rented a temporary apartment in Vancouver so she can work unremotely at her remote job. We…

--

--

Peter Schooff
Peter Schooff

Written by Peter Schooff

Published in the NY Times, McSweeney’s, More Mirth of a Nation, Data Juice, and The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. Which one is the lie?

Responses (2)