“In the pink” is an informal expression meaning the peak of health or an optimal state.
Friday 3rd November, the day before Saturn turns direct in Pisces signifying relinquishing the old, endings and moving forward, welcoming the new.
We have two lives, and the second begins when we realize we only have one.
Confucius.
Three days earlier than planned the bright pink CAT 7 tonne excavator rocks up on the back of a truck, its glamorous colour reflecting Cancer Awareness month. It looks oddly appropriate, amongst the detritus of new shed construction; piles of building waste and dirt where once there was a lush lawn, two more custard apple trees and an ancient abundant macadamia tree.
The shed appeared after the tiny house was built and it now effectively blocks a direct route up and out of the land. Every time I walk up the steep slope I rehearse my tiny home exiting with such grace and dexterity that it seems like she’s floating.
A day earlier, Craig the driver and I had agreed that due to the weather we would bring the “ first moving event” forward, and now a moment I had been practising all year arrives in the form of an affable leprechaun and his magic pink machine. The sky is looking grey and threatening to rain, “glad we agreed to do this now’, he muses as the first drops of rain gently fall.
He surveys the ground, starts to prepare the pathway for my Tiny to be towed out, whilst I haul out the fridge and final few forgotten belongings rattling around in the cupboards. It’s a forlorn sight; the fridge all alone on the grass, the structure for a bathroom that never materialised and assorted remnants of a composting toilet amongst other things of a year barely and fully lived on this thin slice of terrace, overlooking beautiful Currumbin Valley. I try not to entertain the idea of my tiny home plunging downhill to the dam below.
Having a conversation with Building Designer and business owner of Dandelion Safe Homes, Karen Murad before I moved my tiny home gave me the confidence to reach out to the haulage companies to speak their language. Having moved her tiny home 8 times she is a pro. I created a preparation checklist.
Moving Checklist for a Novice:
- Learn the language of your tiny home and speak it with confidence to haulage companies; dimensions from the ground up, all specifications, trailer /tow hitch type (pintel hook).
- Get recommendations of good operators, tow truck/haulage companies.
- Post on Load Shift an online platform where multiple companies quote on your job to compare quotes.
- For a first move go with recommendations and pay a little extra for super professional care.
- Have an experienced person on your team supporting the process.
- Roll of blue builders tape to tape windows and inside cupboards and drawers
- Understand how to manage footings, disconnect water and power before move date.
- Check hand break, bearings, tyre pressure
- Good weather
- A friendly dog for company
- A solid chassis with recently checked bearings under your tiny home.
When Craig assured me it was all going to be fine, he gave the first gentle tug. My tiny home protested, creaked and groaned, like we’d woken a giantess from a hundred year sleep. The roof flashings creaked, the tyres heaved and the chains rattled, but everything held.
My tiny home wasn’t a normal build. Bought at a Pickles auction, it was delivered to an industrial precinct where it first started its life as. Traymark site cabin for Ipswich City Council, dismantled of its PPE storage, lunchroom and bathroom and towed to it’s new hilly location. An extra 1m of steel framing was added to the skillion roof line and rebuilt, with no inside bathroom.
Ruby, Craig’s tortoiseshell staffy and I sit on the slope. She senses my anxiety and licks my face, reassuring me that her master has it all under control. He just won’t let my worst nightmare happen, seeing this masterpiece of craftsmanship tumble down the hill to rest under the poinciana tree.
Creaking and cranking around the steep bend and up the slope she goes, getting into her stride, through the recently trimmed branches of the paperbark, up on to the flat with only a minor catch on one of the branches slightly bending the roof flashing.
Stage 1 and the worst is over and now it’s just down the gravel driveway to rest on the roadside ready for Stage 2. Craig gave the chassis and the stability of the home on it a thumbs up; we really were “in the pink.”
The uncoupling process is, in my mind, fully complete. The metal stumps that held my Tiny Home in place were sawn through earlier that week in a symbolic untethering. And now a day earlier almost exactly a year since our separation, I am free. My tiny home rests on the side of the road and ironically is on Council land, none of my neighbors will complain and it will sit there until it’s next landing place and that right now, is uncertain.
In soft rain I drive to my other home, my aunt’s place along the Tweed River. It’s nearly sunset and I am overcome with the urge to toast to my new life. I stop for a bottle of white wine, then my favorite fish shop to order oysters and grilled barramundi. The trappings of a green salad from the van fridge complete the last supper. I am the only one there and after my order they close the shop and I am left to my delicious solitude as the evening sky bruises bluish pink and dissolves into the river taking with it this chapter of my life.
