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  • Dreamy Tiny House Diary – September 2026 in Bavaria

    Dreamy Tiny House Diary – September 2026 in Bavaria

    Today, the new edition of my Dreamy Tiny House Diary is being released—and this time everything revolves around September 2026 in Bavaria: clear mornings, small detours, long to-do lists, and those quiet moments when everything suddenly makes sense.

    In This Edition You’ll Find

    Everyday life in the tiny house: minimalist, practical, sometimes absurd—but real.
    Walks, train stations, cafés: my Bavaria in September, step by step.
    Focus, routines, and projects: how I keep going even when everything feels like too much.
    Small crises and small victories: things that get on my nerves—and things that carry me through.
    Thoughts between grounded reality and philosophy: the “why” behind what I do.

    One Sentence for Each Day of September

    September 1, 2026: Was it just a small detour—or the first sign that my plan wanted to take different paths today?
    September 2, 2026: How often can you be on the move for four hours and still come home with just one lesson in the end?
    September 3, 2026: If an application already sounds like rejection the moment it’s spoken—what am I actually still fighting for?
    September 4, 2026: Was the thunderstorm outside louder—or the thought that I keep moving on despite everything?
    September 5, 2026: Sometimes I wonder whether my routine carries me—or whether I carry it.
    September 6, 2026: How much order really emerges—if you just start over often enough?
    September 7, 2026: Is it a coincidence that somewhere between bridge, train, and cake my mind clears again?
    September 8, 2026: Why does a small bench by the town hall sometimes feel like a safe harbor?
    September 9, 2026: How many detours does it take until a single recipe finally ends up in my hands?
    September 10, 2026: When an umbrella turns into an office—what does that say about my determination?
    September 11, 2026: How much can you accomplish in one day before the night writes its own chapter?
    September 12, 2026: Maybe it wasn’t the noise outside—but the longing for calm that woke me up.
    September 13, 2026: Is a sign that says “Private” enough to set boundaries—or does it take more than words?
    September 14, 2026: Was I really relaxed—or just briefly no longer on the run?
    September 15, 2026: What if the ten euros at the café are sometimes the price I pay for my focus?
    September 16, 2026: How much strength lies in solving a problem piece by piece—even when it gets ugly?
    September 17, 2026: Was it just a double language switch—or a small sign that patience really does pay off?
    September 18, 2026: Can a single letter turn everything upside down—and still open new doors?
    September 19, 2026: When the night knocks on the windows, how do you find trust again in the morning?
    September 20, 2026: Why does a crowded train sometimes feel less tight than a crowded mind?
    September 21, 2026: Maybe the path to the Weißach wasn’t just movement—but an answer without words.
    September 22, 2026: What if flexibility doesn’t mean giving in—but becoming freer?
    September 23, 2026: How can the cold at a bus stop warm the courage to keep going?
    September 24, 2026: Is it a coincidence that my next steps seem clearer precisely in the fog?
    September 25, 2026: What if overpriced offers push me exactly to the place where I grow on my own?
    September 26, 2026: Was it really just a run by the lake—or the quiet feeling that something is falling into place?
    September 27, 2026: Can a pair of fingerless gloves be a promise—that I won’t freeze quite as much anymore?
    September 28, 2026: Why does a foggy lake sometimes feel as if it’s whispering something to me?
    September 29, 2026: When even a composting toilet turns into a negotiation—how close am I really to my next home?
    September 30, 2026: Was the loud mowing in the morning just background noise—or the starting signal for my planning marathon?

    Get the New Edition Now

    You can get the new edition today:
    as a text edition in six languages,
    as a photo diary without text, chronologically arranged,
    or as a bundle that includes both.

    I’m happy to share my life in a tiny house with you—openly and honestly.

    If you don’t want to miss the next blog article, subscribe to my blog for free.


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