Moving a tiny house is a lot like having a baby. You can eat right, you can go to the doctor, you can read baby books, and watch videos; but in the end the baby is going to come out and be what it is. It’s stressful, and amazing, all at the same time.
After fourteen long months of construction of my tiny house, moving day arrived. Let me tell you, there is only so much planning you can do and eventualities you can attempt to control, and then you just have to let go. And “letting go” is not my strong suit so this was not an easy part of the adventure for me.
My moving day came a bit earlier than I really wanted. For some unknown reason, the landlord suddenly decided it was time for me to move it and in a rather dramatic fashion, she informed me thusly. I could have chosen to fight her and I’m not sure that her objections were/are a legal basis for the threats she lobbied against me. But, I chose instead to put my emotional energy towards finding a solution even if that meant finding a short term one, and then a long term one, sooner than I had planned.