I was wrong.
Tiny house landlording is a beautiful, chaotic, muddy, magical thing. It will enrich your life and ruin your lawn. Here are the four things I really wish I’d known before I signed up to become a part-time property manager, part-time compost toilet negotiator, and full-time reluctant community builder.
1. People Will Bring Their Entire Lives With Them, Including the Chickens
You think they’ll rock up with a sleek little house and a book on mindfulness. But no. They arrive towing a second trailer full of raised garden beds, a worm farm, six solar panels, and a bantam called Egg Sheeran.
One woman moved in with more pets than furniture. Another asked if she could “just try out” living with a goat for a while. That goat ate my rhubarb and bit my hose.
Moral of the story? Set clear boundaries early, physical and otherwise. And ask how many legs are moving in before you say yes.
2. A Compost Toilet Will Absolutely Feature in Your Life
Whether you’re sharing one, managing expectations around one, or being asked to help fix one at 9:30pm on a Wednesday, you will become intimately familiar with the inner workings of humanure.
You’ll also learn more about greywater than you ever wanted to know. There will be discussions about “appropriate mulch ratios” and “aeration frequency” over dinner. There will be smells.
Do yourself a favour: put it all in writing. Have a proper agreement about waste management, and don’t be afraid to say, “No, I’m not taking a peek at your compost heap.”
3. It’s Not Passive Income If You’re Actively Herding Alpacas
You may dream of money just landing in your account while you sip tea in a kaftan and admire the sunset. Reality? You’re out in the rain unblocking someone’s greywater outlet while trying to stop their dog from chasing your ducks.
The income is lovely, yes. It helps pay off the mortgage and gives you that virtuous glow that only sustainable capitalism can provide. But you’ll earn every cent, sometimes with your hands, sometimes with your sanity.
Budget for time, too. Because when something breaks (and it will), you’re the first call.
4. You’ll End Up Caring (More Than You Meant To)
You tell yourself it’s a business arrangement. A simple lease. But then they tell you why they went tiny, the breakup, the health scare, the dream of living gently, and suddenly you’re emotionally invested.
You’ll find yourself checking in on stormy nights. Sharing cake. Celebrating the day they finally installed their own laundry line. And when they move on, it’ll weirdly hurt.
Being a tiny house landlord is a little bit practical, a little bit personal, and a lot community-based, whether you meant it to be or not.
Final Thoughts (From Someone Who’s Now Built a Boundary Fence and Owns a Fire Pit)
If you’re thinking of leasing your land to a tiny houser, do it. But go in prepared. Be clear. Be kind. Have rules. And always ask where the greywater’s going.
You’ll laugh, you’ll learn, and you’ll never look at your compost pile the same way again.
And honestly? You’ll never regret helping someone live simply and safely, even if it means explaining to your mum why there’s a tiny home called The Wandering Weka parked outside your kitchen window.
