True love fills up a tiny house in the hills
There’s an article on a satirical “The Onion” type website with the headline: Hipster Couple Buys Tiny House, Divorces 8 Hours Later. Although a friend posted it on my Facebook page, I didn’t need to read it — because for 36 hours in Asheville, N.C., this past weekend, I lived it.
My husband Todd and I stayed in a teeny, weeny, itty, bitty, tiny house on the side of a steep mountain (OK, it was probably more of a “hill,” but when you’re from Southwest Florida, anything higher than a speed bump in a gated community is a mountain). No worries, dear readers, Todd and I won’t be divorcing, but we did learn the importance of having more than one bathroom and not having to climb a ladder to get to the boudoir.