When Mother Nature Reminds You Who's Really in Charge | Week 23 Post-layoff

TL;DR: A fierce storm sent us into our closet with two dogs and a surprisingly zen cat, while closing date changes and a dead lawnmower reminded us that even the best-laid tiny home plans need backup strategies.

"The sirens are going off," I called to Bryan around 10:30 PM as severe storms barreled toward our house. We had to coax our cat into her crate before the storm hit, but once we were all crammed into our hall closet– two humans, two dogs, and one completely unbothered cat, everyone was surprisingly calm—everyone settled into surprisingly calm storm-shelter mode.

This Week's Reality Check:

• ✓ Survived storm winds without damage (and with surprising closet zen)
• ✓ Waiting to adapt to closing date change due to a federal holiday
• ✓ Discovered our cat has claimed the dog crate as her personal fortress of solitude
• ✓ Watched the lawnmower die with perfect comedic timing (3 mows left!)

What We're Actually Doing:

Storm Preparedness Gets Real

Sunday started with weather reports predicting severe storms with large hail and dangerous winds heading straight for us. We spent the day moving estate sale items back into the house and somehow managed to squeeze our second car into the garage "by a whisper."

When the sirens started wailing around 10:30 PM, we grabbed both dogs, settled our cat into her beloved crate fortress, and piled into the hall closet. For 45 minutes, we watched and listened to nature's fury and watched the progression of the storm on our phones. Our cat sat completely silent in her crate, as if storm sheltering was just another Tuesday for her.

Fortunately, we only ended up with 58-mph winds—still intense, but much less than the 80-90 mph that had been forecasted.

The whole experience got us thinking about our future tiny home community. Our tiny home will be secured with 140-mph hurricane straps, which is reassuring, but it also makes us wonder—if we ever face winds stronger than that, would even the school down the street survive? That was where we were told to go in case of tornadoes. It's a humbling reminder that sometimes Mother Nature gets the final say, regardless of how well we prepare.

We're definitely following up on that storm protocol when we move in next week.

The timing couldn't have been more interesting for what came next.

When Closing Dates Have Other Plans

Monday brought news that our closing would need to move due to a federal holiday. We knew it was a federal holiday, but apparently whoever scheduled our closing just figured that out this week. The title company is working to reschedule us either the day before or the day after.

Now we're waiting to hear the new date, which could add an interesting layer to our timeline if it's delayed. We're supposed to move into the tiny home rental this weekend, but our closing could now happen after we're already living in 399 square feet. There's something poetic about officially ending homeownership while already experiencing life without it.

The Great Downsize Continues

We're packing with a two-stage strategy: daily essentials for rented tiny home life and everything else for climate-controlled storage until our own tiny home arrives in August. It's like playing Tetris with our entire lives, trying to figure out what we'll actually need in a space the size of most people's living rooms.

Wednesday's termite inspection came back clean (one less thing to worry about), and I tackled my closet on Friday. Spoiler alert: most of the clothes I've been saving for "someday" didn't fit. I have been putting in a bit more effort to lose weight recently—working toward better health—but this in and of itself is a work in progress. It's been a humbling lesson in adapting expectations along with everything else in this midlife transition.

Bryan sanded and refinished our kitchen island table—the one the buyers asked to keep. Last summer, a can of bug spray leaked on it and ate right through the finish in a prominent spot on the top. We'd been meaning to fix it, but life kept happening. During the home staging process, our stager strategically placed an open cookbook over the damaged area. Now, with moving day approaching, it felt important to leave everything beautiful for the new owners. The refinished surface gleamed like new—you'd never know it had been damaged.

The Day the Lawn Mower Died

Saturday arrived with perfect irony: our lawnmower chose this moment, with exactly three mows left before we leave, to give up completely. Bryan tried everything, but it was clearly done with this relationship.

Fortunately, we'd already identified a backup plan when the mower started acting up weeks ago. A neighbor's son across the street has been mowing lawns in the neighborhood with his younger sister for years. They are pretty impressive non-adult entrepreneurs! Bryan made arrangements for them to handle the final three weekends, though he had to "wing it" this weekend and ended up weed-eating the entire backyard.

Between the Texas heat, the unexpected weed-eating work, and helping my mom power wash her deck, we were completely spent by mid-afternoon. The temperature was brutal (and it's only June) forcing us to take frequent breaks in the air conditioning to cool down. But we still kept our standing Saturday dinner date with friends—a tradition that started during the pandemic when we'd gather on our backyard deck for takeout and connection.

We haven't hosted at the house since putting it on the market, so we've been meeting at restaurants instead. It's nice, but those backyard gatherings were special. There's something about your own space, your own deck, and your own mosquitoes that creates a different kind of intimacy.

Small Victories and Unexpected Gratitude

Before the storm hit Sunday, I took photos of our purple flowering plant (Lynn's Legacy Cenizo) at peak bloom and the front of our house with all the native flowers we'd planted looking their absolute best. Usually, hard rains knock all the blooms off that purple plant, but somehow these flowers survived the 58-mph winds this time—as if nature wanted to give us a few more days to enjoy the beauty we'd created here.

We're hoping to plant a smaller version of our native garden at our new tiny home community, along with Bryan's favorite juniper bush.

Our meal planning has been surprisingly wonderful during this transition. When you're trying to empty the refrigerator and freezer, creativity becomes necessity. We've discovered corn on the cob cooked in the microwave (wrapped in wet paper towel—life-changing!), oil-free cauliflower pizza, and perfected our whole food burrito game.

Bryan made his famous tomato-cucumber-onion salad that we love in everything from falafel wraps to veggie burritos. When life feels chaotic, being able to look forward to good food with the person you love, even while playing refrigerator roulette, somehow makes everything manageable.

Moving Forward (Literally)

Seven days. That's how long until we move into our tiny home rental. The closing date might shift, the lawnmower might be dead, and storms might send us into closets with our surprisingly zen animals, but we're doing this thing.

Every day brings us closer to the lifestyle we've been dreaming about since that cruise in 2022. Farmers markets, trail walks, creative time, and a community where neighbors actually know each other's names.

The storms will come—both literal and metaphorical—but we're learning that having a solid plan and flexible expectations might be the secret to weathering anything.

Let's Talk:

• Have you ever had a major life transition disrupted by unexpected events? How did you adapt?
• What's your emergency preparedness plan, and have you ever had to use it?

Here's to rolling with the punches and finding zen in unexpected places,

-Kathy & Bryan

Note: This post is part of our weekly "Reinventing Midlifehood" series, chronicling our journey of working toward intentional living and rediscovering what matters after a midlife career transition. If this post was shared with you, we hope you'll join us as we explore the freedom that comes from choosing your own path rather than following conventional paths.