I live in a shed. Not the kind you’re picturing with lawnmowers and rakes—this one’s insulated, finished inside, and built to be home. I made the Murphy bed myself from a kit. There’s a bathroom with a shower and a macerating toilet, a vanity, a mini fridge, and an oak dining table. Solar panels on the roof keep the lights humming, and a 55‑inch TV keeps me connected.
Fifty feet away, my daughter and granddaughter live in the house. I go in and out all the time. My shed gives me independence, but family is always right there. It’s freedom and connection, side by side.
Out here in the county, I can build without permits, wire my own electrical, and live the way I want. My shed isn’t small—it’s proof you can carve out comfort, resilience, and story in any space.
I can’t quite get away with peeing off my porch though. That’s when you really have privacy.
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