I met Mr. C Wi in Venice, California, a few blocks from the Pacific Ocean.
I asked Mr. Wi how long he had been an EXTREME minimalist and he said that was how he had started life and that was how he intended to conclude his existence on the planet.
As readers of my column may recall, Mr. Wi, 55, suffers from what health care providers call Unorthodox Belief Syndrome (U-BS). There’s a lot of it going around California this year.
“I am an origami master,” he said. “Using ancient Asian folding concepts I refined the concept of the tiny house so that all my possessions and living quarters can be contained in a bucket.
“For awhile I carried my tiny home in a tin pail but since I had no lid for it, everything I owned got drenched when it rained. That’s when I hit upon the idea of re-purposing a breadbox.”
Mr. Wi explained that his breadbox house contained sleeping quarters, kitchen, library and bathroom. Right there on the sidewalk he shared its design with me. “Look. I open the lid on the breadbox and voila, here is a bucket. Inside the bucket I have a silk hammock large enough for two people. Often I invite overnight guests for the weekend.”
Where’s your kitchen?” I asked.
“It’s the bucket, I make soup in that. Afterwords I fill the bucket with water from a fire hydrant and wash up. See, I have a Fire Department wrench.”
“You spoke of a library,” I said.
“Yes, there are several paperbacks in a Ziploc bag, along with additional food, each with Ziploc bags in the bucket. I even have breath mints.”
“Bathroom?” I asked.
“Lots of room for water in the bucket,” he said. “And of course when it’s half empty it makes a grand porta potty.”
“Genius. Brilliant.”
“Agreed,” he said. “I have reduced my carbon footprint to a toeprint. Governor Brown often consults with me.”
“Very good. May I have the correct spelling of your name, Mr. Wi?”
“It’s Charlie — C-h-a-r-l-i-e. Witmereson. W-i-t-m-e-r-e-s-o-n. I abbreviate it to C Wi to save ink and paper. Not any reason to even use a period after the C. Anymore questions or observations?”
“Instead of putting your bucket in the breadbox, why not just put a lid on the bucket?” I asked.
“The three cats and two squirrels I have would never fit in the bucket. I’m a minimalist. Not an idiot.”
I asked Mr. Wi how long he had been an EXTREME minimalist and he said that was how he had started life and that was how he intended to conclude his existence on the planet.
As readers of my column may recall, Mr. Wi, 55, suffers from what health care providers call Unorthodox Belief Syndrome (U-BS). There’s a lot of it going around California this year.
“I am an origami master,” he said. “Using ancient Asian folding concepts I refined the concept of the tiny house so that all my possessions and living quarters can be contained in a bucket.
“For awhile I carried my tiny home in a tin pail but since I had no lid for it, everything I owned got drenched when it rained. That’s when I hit upon the idea of re-purposing a breadbox.”
Mr. Wi explained that his breadbox house contained sleeping quarters, kitchen, library and bathroom. Right there on the sidewalk he shared its design with me. “Look. I open the lid on the breadbox and voila, here is a bucket. Inside the bucket I have a silk hammock large enough for two people. Often I invite overnight guests for the weekend.”
Where’s your kitchen?” I asked.
“It’s the bucket, I make soup in that. Afterwords I fill the bucket with water from a fire hydrant and wash up. See, I have a Fire Department wrench.”
“You spoke of a library,” I said.
“Yes, there are several paperbacks in a Ziploc bag, along with additional food, each with Ziploc bags in the bucket. I even have breath mints.”
“Bathroom?” I asked.
“Lots of room for water in the bucket,” he said. “And of course when it’s half empty it makes a grand porta potty.”
“Genius. Brilliant.”
“Agreed,” he said. “I have reduced my carbon footprint to a toeprint. Governor Brown often consults with me.”
“Very good. May I have the correct spelling of your name, Mr. Wi?”
“It’s Charlie — C-h-a-r-l-i-e. Witmereson. W-i-t-m-e-r-e-s-o-n. I abbreviate it to C Wi to save ink and paper. Not any reason to even use a period after the C. Anymore questions or observations?”
“Instead of putting your bucket in the breadbox, why not just put a lid on the bucket?” I asked.
“The three cats and two squirrels I have would never fit in the bucket. I’m a minimalist. Not an idiot.”
