A Place in the Sun

Long before I purchased the lot and began the actual construction, I had a visual image of the house that I wanted—its color, general shape, and the interior layout and features that would make it a comfortable and satisfying place in which to entertain my friends, take naps, and grow old. I had effectively made a number of decisions and eliminated many options before this house existed, and contrary to the messages constantly bombarding us about MORE MORE MORE BIGGER BIGGER MORE MORE MORE, this is actually a good thing.

According to Barry Schwartz, author of The Paradox of Choice. Why Less is More: How the Culture of Abundance Robs Us of Satisfaction, the multitude of options in our culture has led not to greater happiness (hooray! I can have ANYTHING I want!) but to greater stress, anxiety, busyness and overall unhappiness (#$@%!!! Who cares about GROUT?! I could be sipping margaritas in Mexico right now instead of worrying about this…or, as mi amigo John would say after watching hours of telenovelas, Que Lastima!). “The growth of options and opportunities for choice has three, related, unfortunate effects,” Schwartz writes. “It means that decisions require more effort. It makes mistakes more likely. It makes the psychological consequences of mistakes more severe.” It makes a home builder caught in the whirlpool of decision-making want to run away to Puerto Vallarta for the weekend.

As I read Schwartz’s book, I can identify with what economists call the “tyranny of small decisions”—the sense of being overwhelmed when our options expand one by one. I’ve really tried to avoid being tyrannized in this way: I try NOT to look at just one more catalogue; I’m not obsessed with finding the best, most cost-effective, most environmentally-friendly anything. Mostly, I’m satisfied with being able to select from a limited range of products for any given situation. I’m happy with the skylight in the bathroom, the gush of winter sun streaming through the veranda doors, the big front porch, the unexpected storage nooks above the laundry closet, bathroom door, and in the front guest room.

Unfortunately, while this system works for me, I still suffer occasionally from others’ expectations. With as many options as there are for windows, doors, cabinets, tile, granite, flooring, drip guards, fascia, light switches, Trex, siding, drawer pulls, ad nauseum, I’m comfortable NOT caring about some of them. We’re so saturated with choice in this culture that we’ve started believing that every choice matters, simply because it exists. I don’t think they all matter. I’m going to have a roof over my head (see photo!), a terrific neighborhood, a beautiful view, and an array of rooms in which to read, sleep, eat, and enjoy what in some places (Mexico, for example) might be considered Una Casa Muy Grande.

Happily, said Casa (name to be revealed soon!) is coming along nicely, and thanks to Mr. Schwartz’s suggestions for reducing the negative impact of mega-options[1], I was able to make a few efficient, satisfying decisions over the weekend. Saturday, at Unmentionable Big Box Store, I stood in the bathtub aisle, aglow with the minimal options before me. Having previously decided on a whirlpool tub, my choices were immediately reduced to 5, then 3 as I eliminated the two that were too large, then 2 more as one of the 3 was out of stock, then I called James. “Apron or no apron?” I asked. “Yes,” James replied. “Yes, apron?” “Yes.” Only one of the two had an apron. To Do List, meet Mr. Check Mark.

The greeter at Costco looked at me strangely when I asked for help “loading up some toilets,” but once we established that I needed assistance purchasing and not using them, peace was restored. The decision to buy the johns at Costco was simplified by the fact that they only sell ONE model, and it’s the dual-flusher I’ve long dreamed about. I then spent an hour grocery shopping with a flat bed cart heavy with commodes, parmesan cheese, a 32-pack box of Orville Redenbacher Lite Popcorn, a box of Larabars, and an 8-pack of Healthy Choice Italian Soup (0 Weight Watchers Points!). Talk about coming full circle.

I went to Another Large Box Store to purchase the Juno soundtrack (super fun), and ended up leaving with a receipt for a French-door LG fridge, a cooktop with telescoping downdraft, a dishwasher, and Season 2 of Veronica Mars on DVD (I’m in the liner notes! Check it out!). Belben, VISA, and a cold boring Sunday are a dangerous and expensive mix. However, picking out the appliances feels like an accomplishment, as does the progress on the house, not all of which I can take credit for: the roof is done (thanks Mt. Baker Roofing!); the ventilation and heating has been mapped out (thanks, Northwest Energy Systems!); the plumbing is underway (thanks, Ideal Plumbing!) and James and John O.’s work passed recent inspection and the house is ready to wrap (thanks, City of Bellingham!)

Although the enormity and number of decisions I’m making during the home-building process has driven the meter on my cranky scale all the way to eleven a few times, I remain hopeful and thankful about the project and the process. Choice, as Barry Schwartz has pointed out, is not just an overwhelming depress-fest. It’s an opportunity, too—for learning, self-discipline, self-expression, and “to be actively and effectively engaged in the world, with profound psychological benefits,” as a Schwartz says. And most days, I take time to remember that primarily, this opportunity is a gift, even it sometimes seems to be wrapped in a thousand layers and tied with a hundred knots.

[1] See sidebar for a list.