homes Archives - Frugaling

How Electric Fires & Stoves Are Making Greener, More Sustainable Heating for Homes.

Stoves and electric fires are fundamentally very different in their overall design. However, in recent years, both have made huge advancements in design to make them both sustainable heating sources for a home.

In this article we look at both electric fires and stoves, for the simple reason that in some homes a wood burning stove is not an option, and electricity is the only power option – this can be especially true in new build housing developments.

Electric fires – One attractive feature of electric fires, is that they are very simple to use. Simply plug in, switch on and warm up. Many electric fires nowadays require a very low level of energy, meaning they are very cheap to use. Allowing you to heat your home for less, and being more environmentally friendly at the same time.

Unlike gas fires, electric fires do not need an annual inspection either. Electric fires can be fitted in such a variety of places in the home. Many such fires have a side heating design, allowing you to place a fire below a wall mounted TV or very close to the floor.

Another benefit of electric fires, is that there is no water involved, like with a traditional central heating/radiator set up. As a result there is no wasted heat through pipeworks, or the associated inconvenience and cost of pipe blockages. An electric fire is classed as 100% efficient. This is because 2kW of electricity is used to product 2kW of heat in a home.

Wood burning stoves are good – but they cant achieve this level of efficiency, although they are taking large strides in becoming more fuel efficient.

Wood burning stoves – In recent years, wood burning stoves have made advancements in efficiency, to make them cheaper to run, and more environmentally friendly. In comparison to a traditional open fire, a high efficiency, wood burning stove is around four times more efficient. An open fire is about 20% efficient, while a high efficiency stove is around 80% efficient. With an open fire, 80% of the heat produced is wasted – usually disappearing up the chimney. With a wood burning stove, this figure is only 20% – the other 80% goes directly on heating a home.

The result of advancements in wood burning stoves means less wood needs to be burnt for the same heat output, saving money and helping contribute to a cleaner, more sustainable way of heating a home.

Below are some tips to ensure maximum efficiency when burning wood:

Ensure you only burn well-seasoned wood. Wood with excessive moisture will contribute towards chimney congestion, increase the risks of carbon monoxide poisoning, and chimney fires. Burning unseasoned wood will also product a poor, inefficient heat output.
Ensure your chimney and stove is cleaned on a regular basis by a qualified chimney sweep.
Burn the best wood you can afford. Below is a list of some of the best woods.

Ash – Ash is regarded as one of the very best woods for burning. Ash produces a steady flame and a good heat output. Unlike other wood, ash can be burnt when green, but like with most wood burns at it’s very best when it is dry.

Beech – Like ash, beech burns very well. However, it does not burn well when green due to it’s much higher moisture content when live.

Hawthorn – This type of wood has a slow burn rate, and a good heat output.

Rowan – Similar to hawthorn, rowan has a very good heat output that burns slowly. Rowan is also know as Mountain Ash.

Thorn – Thorn produces very little smoke, which makes it an ideal wood where excessive smoke could be an issue.

Yew – Slow burn and produces a great, intense heat. Burning yew also produces a pleasant scent, which makes it stand out a little more over other woods.

We’re Addicted To Square Footage

By Frugaling 11 Comments

I live in a 900-square-foot, two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment. Each bedroom has a full bathroom, a closet, and area for a desk. The kitchen is relatively large with a dishwasher, stove and oven, large sink, washer and dryer, and full refrigerator. A living room hosts a couch, chair, table, and television. The ceilings are expansive and tall; not palatial, but more than necessary. Maybe it’s just my “phase of life,” but this space feels like more than enough. What more could I need?

At 27 years old, I make enough to live. My salary is just over $20,000 each year. I can’t really save much considering the costs of my education and ancillary costs, but I’m happy with what I have. There’s room for improvement, but as I look at my apartment and stuff, I can’t help but feel embarrassed by the relative opulence. Most of the world doesn’t have it this good. I have everything I need right now.

If I were married, the apartment would actually feel even larger, too. Currently, my roommate’s stuff occupies a solid half of the apartment. If it was just my partner and I, we would share the same space, and only need one bedroom. The other room could become an office, dayroom — whatever! Heck, it could be a walk-in closet for all I care!

Over 900 square feet, I would begin to feel the creep of growth — the push to fill space whenever emptiness is present. Whether it’s my philosophical values of frugality or minimalism or a desire to minimize my carbon impact, I’d hesitate to grow beyond these walls. They wouldn’t be necessary.

However, it’s important to consider whether my tendency toward extremism is getting the best of me. Could there be a time in life when 900 square feet might not be enough? Potentially. If I had a larger family or needed to make room for my parents or some other unique situation arose, I could see the need. But it would be temporary to expand to the need of others, not constant space for the rest of my life. I’d want to downsize again.

Last week, I was reading an article in The New York Times about couples who had moved decades ago into the suburbs surrounding New York City. Some had moved into large bungalows and McMansions to raise families, enjoy the slower life, and have more room to grow.

One family raised three children in a 2,400-square-foot home. For those struggling with math like me, that’d be 5 people — 3 more than my roommate and I. With about 500 square feet per resident, the house could probably be quite a comfortable location. When accounting for the size of the home, it doesn’t include off-site storage, yards, and/or storage sheds that can be added later.

Now, later in life and three adult children, this family is looking to downsize and move back to the city, culture, and bustle of Manhattan. Who can blame them, too? New York City is fun — there’s always something to do, eat, and see. But as that couple looked for locations, they came up empty. They said all they could find were “depressing,” “very small” places at 900 square feet.

My jaw dropped at the statement. I was shocked! Here I’ve been living in apartments of 900 or less square feet for about 4 years; yet, this couple was struggling to move into such a space. What was I missing?!

Here’s what I suspect:

People develop and find a comfort in abundance. To downsize may be a reflection of lost class and status.
There’s a fear of giving up and away. Some material goods might not keep us alive, but are still hard to part with.
Despite a “couple’s” desire to downsize, there might be discrepancies. Making a move up, down, or laterally isn’t always mutually agreed upon in the relationship. Those contrasting aspects can prevent people from committing to a serious downsize.
We reach an adaptational level, which sets a new normal. Anything less just doesn’t feel “right.”
Surrounded by a culture of mass and materialism, it’s hard to buck that trend and go small.

The reality is smaller spaces are freeing for people young and old. Not having lots of material goods and space means you can vacation when you want, dig into more expensive cultures, and enjoy a break from endless chores. And more importantly, plenty of normal, average, everyday people live in small spaces with great efficiency (Just look at this couple who lives in a beautiful, 420-square-foot apartment).

For years, magazines, newspapers, and all other forms of media have stressed how wealthy people buy opulent homes. Tens of millions of dollars are spent to afford these palaces. From Bill Gates to Ellen DeGeneres, these homes capture our attention. Don’t we want to be successful just like them?

Rather than duplicate this display of status, we can choose another path. What if we looked for the smallest apartments or homes? What if we looked for less? What if we looked for tiny, modular apartments that move and shift to our needs? What if we gave up our cultural addiction to more stuff in favor the culture out there?

Homelessness Is Everyone’s Problem

By Frugaling 16 Comments

I stood there, harboring a chip on my shoulder and feeling like I was carrying a burden in my chest. School was entering the toughest part of the year, and I was still trudging along in sub-zero, arctic-like temperatures of Iowa. Stressed out and pissed off, the snow pummeled and angled for my eyes.

Over a foot of snow accumulated in two hours. I couldn’t see the concrete. Roads and pedestrian paths disintegrated. Cars revved and swerved with each degree shift of the wheel. I feared I’d be the accidental recipient of an absentminded or reckless driver.

A face mask crystallized my condensed breath. I blinked and shards seemed to puncture my eyelids. Although, without it, my nose would likely fall off. I could barely breathe – artificially choked by the restrictive layer like an asthmatic marathoner.

Snow drifts and plows lined the sidewalks. My momentum couldn’t carry me over the hills, so I looked like a football player running through tires. The tendons in my knees stretched and torqued under the trot. I could tell they weren’t happy with me — every time I stopped they screamed and ached.

What was I running to? My place of work: the homeless shelter. A beacon and bastion of hope – the warm solace where my weathered feet might warm. Even more, I was motivated by the fact that my brief discomfort was another’s quotidian life. The punishing cold and snow was an unfortunate norm to the population I came to serve. The homeless were suffering far more at the worst part of the season. I needed to get there and try to make a difference.

An academic year — summer to summer — passed since I started working at the shelter. I saw the seasons change, turnover in residents, and demographic shifts. People with pennies to their name would come in and seek shelter — some would be turned away for lack of room. Some would be paired with case managers, find work, and a fresh start in a new apartment. Sometimes the system worked, and sometimes it failed. Some homeless people were self-starters, and others needed additional help.

As a white guy from a middle-class neighborhood in the Denver area, my experience in life seemed to differ from many of the residents of the shelter. My parents worked hard, but also made time for me. They are still married after 30 years. And they consciously decided on neighborhoods with strong schools. Many residents came from broken families and piss poor educations.

I was born white, and with it, I gained an unearned privilege. Police would pay less attention to me. Teachers would pay more attention to me. Honors and advanced placement (AP) courses were always available, and I was encouraged to take them. Life was easy in these respects. I had difficulties growing up – often feeling like an outsider – but these paled in comparison to systemic racism, segregation, and lost opportunities.

In many ways, I grew to appreciate that shelters are society’s measly attempt at righting systemic wrongs. They focus on the bare necessities usually: a place to sleep and a daily meal. Occasionally, there’s a pair of shoes or gloves that will prevent frostbite.

How do we let people ever get this low? How do we fail to provide for those in need of greater assistance? Unfortunately, answers are complex. It requires changing the dialogues we have with others and in our own heads about poverty, income/wealth inequality, and homelessness.

On my last day, I hugged the staff goodbye and shook the hands of some residents I had gotten to know. My eyes welled up with sadness. A year of counseling and communication with one of the most vulnerable populations… It was overwhelming. I had continuously reached my limits as a counselor – newly defined due to this experience. Sometimes I couldn’t help as much as I wanted because basic needs were unmet. My role at that point became to assist in whatever way I could.

Today, I write about this experience in the hope that you’ll listen and advocate for those in need. The financial burdens of people without homes is great, but the systemic problems that lead to this place are even greater. Advocacy is the only option, and it goes beyond serving food at a soup kitchen or counseling. Change necessitates sociopolitical involvement, which requires us to write, vote, and get upset about it.

We live in a perplexing time of great wealth with horrific poverty. How the two exist and continue is a consequence of systemic, legal, and political action. To change it, we must use the same tools.

In Salt Lake City, there’s a movement afoot to change this paradigm. It’s called, “housing first.” Instead of judging people and calling them “lazy addicts,” Salt Lake provides housing to the homeless. Radically simple, isn’t it? They provide housing, which clears and cleans the streets, and it turns out that it’s cheaper than letting people freeze to death and/or suffering horrific injuries that need the emergency department as a primary means of care.

When you provide housing first, you stop judging someone for all their faults, and start seeing a person that is from a community – who had varying opportunities to succeed. And best of all, it’s affordable.

The sun is beaming down and a breeze passes through my hair. It’s pleasant. And then I think, what will it be like for those out there on the streets tonight? I never used to think that, but now I do almost every day.