It took a couple weeks to fully adjust to crawling into a bed 27” wide and 80” long. Crawling or rolling over into it is exactly what I do since I can’t fully sit up with the 25” of clearance from the top of the bed to the cedar roof. Even sitting on the bench side of the van it felt small. Understandable so, since I’m calling roughly 146 cubic feet of space home for a little while. And that includes a bench, a bed, pantry, spice rack, refrigerator, stove, pots and pans, wardrobe, shoe rack, electrical box, external battery, and little storage space for some gear. Just for reference, the smaller of my two closets at home is roughly 192 cubic feet. It makes me laugh just thinking about it. And on top of that, for 23 days and nights, that space housed me plus another.
After day 15 or 16 is when Pearl became home. Something changed in my psychological thought process of rolling over into the narrowest bed I’ve slept in since I was child. Sure while camping my sleeping pad is probably close to that. But seriously, this is my full-time bed we’re talking about here. This isn’t a weekend of “roughing” it. This is life. It didn’t fully set in until I was offered a couch to sleep on in Bozeman, MT and turned it down because of my preference for my 6” memory foam bed inside my cedar walled cocoon.
Stepping up into Pearl and heaving the stubborn sliding door closed brought a sense of comfort and protection. It was my constant in a world of daily change. New landscapes, new streams, new people, new roads, new weather, everything was new except Pearl. Stepping into Pearl felt like pulling into your driveway, unlocking your door, and stepping inside your house after a long rough day of work. It just feels right.
I ponder what it will be like to drive down Bainbridge Drive and step back into my 2,200 square foot house. Or more comparatively, my 23,000 cubic foot home, not including the garage, attic, basement storage, outside storage, deck space, or front porch space. I believe I will be frustrated with the amount of space. The amount of things. My mindset for the past five months has been, “what can I do without?” “What can I throw away?” “What can I compromise for the sake of organization and tidiness?” Back on Bainbridge Drive, I have 3 couches, 3 recliners, 4 dining room chairs, 2 bar stools, 3 computer chairs, and 4 folding chairs for back up. All those things do is hold butts. That’s it! I could go on, I have two closets in my room and they hold stuff that I can’t even remember what’s in there. I’m getting frustrated just thinking through the amount of crap that I have stored, boxed, stacked, hung, packaged, tucked, and stuffed all through my home. The heck! Ugh! Why? There might be a day in 2021 where I’m invited to an 80’s party and I will pull out my retro Nike wind breaker that’s been stuffed in the back of my closet for the last 3 years and I’ll be ready! Gross. I think the only combative argument I have against that is the utilitarian and frugality side of me. “If you throw that away, some day will come and you’ll wish you had that one thing.” “Mason, now you’ll need to buy another one of those widgets because like a fool you threw it away 18 months ago.”
I foresee a small home in my future. Is it possible to host 20 person dinner parties out of a small home? I don’t know. Maybe with the right layout? Not sure. But what I do know, is that I love stepping up into my cedar walled closet on wheels, closing the door behind me, making dinner, pouring a glass of wine, watching a movie, and then crawling up into my bed. I love picking something up, realizing I it is essentially a duplicate of something else and throwing it away.
Pearl is a home where everything gets used or it gets thrown away. I think I have tried to make my home on Bainbridge Drive a place that puts too much emphasis on comfort and minimizing inconvenience to a degree that has led to excessive purchasing and hoarding. I’ve realized that when there is a degree of “making due” in my life with certain things, the amount of joy and thankfulness increases. When I have “all I need” it even minimizes the ability for others to love and care for me in simple ways. I’m not going to dive off into the correlation between close relationships, trust in the Lord, and a right sense of self as it pertains to having “all I could ever need” but believe that there is a lot to be picked apart and dissected in that space.
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