"The time has come," The Walrus said...

"To talk of other things. Of RVs and trailer parks. Of meth heads and propane. Of moving out and moving on to a place on Briargrove Lane! Kaloo Kalay we'll move Sunday to a place on Briargrove Lane!"

That's right, friends. Ross and I found our first home! My last day in sunny Shady Grove is Saturday!
As I think about leaving the trailer park behind, I am of course super excited, but it's also incredibly daunting. Well, maybe daunting isn't the right word. I am simply struck with the thought that I am closing a chapter on my life. I am starting another fun, beautiful, and exciting one with Ross, but moving out of the trailer park is signaling to me that nothing will ever be the same. I'll never live alone again, and I adore my independence. I'll cook for two, buy groceries for two, and (ugh) clean for two... I'll have two pets instead of one. I'll have to share DVR space. I'll have to be consciously tidy instead of cleaning up when I finally realize the place is dirty. I'll have to make sure it's OK if I invite company over.
None of these changes are bad. They're just different. I can't wait to live with Ross and marry him. I can't wait to have a full sized kitchen again. We've already discussed splitting up the chores, so cleaning won't be like pulling teeth. I love his (our) dog Lucy, and I've missed having a dog to walk. We watch many of the same shows, so it's not like the DVR will be taken over by crap TV. He's also going to have to work at being a little cleaner because we're sharing space so that's fair. And I would like him to OK it with me if he wants his friends over, too. What if I've had a bad day? What if I just want to zone out on the couch? I could say, "Why don't you just meet them somewhere?" And he could tell me the same thing.
I'm not really freaking out, but I just know that my life is changing, and it will never be the same. I almost feel like I'm losing something, or saying goodbye to something. But that's silly because I'm gaining so much! Ross is the man of my dreams, and I want to be with him forever. I don't want to be single forever, and I certainly don't want to live in the trailer park longer than absolutely necessary. Why do I feel like I'm going to miss being out here?!

Are any other newly wed brides or even long-time wives out there that remember feeling this way? How did you handle it?

Gathering boxes and packing tape,
Ray

How to Tell if Your Neighbors are Meth Chemists

I know there are some sketchy characters that live in my 'hood, but for the most part, the only people I see are the people out grilling or enjoying the evening breeze as I run/jog/usually walk by. These are the good ol' boys and girls of lower middle class or upper lower class who are hanging up their nomad spurs in good ol' Middle of Nowhere, Texas. They have hourly jobs and kids and dogs, or their dogs are their kids, or their car is their kid...

Anyway, they're just human beings getting by, living the life of no tie-downs. I'm there with them. As much as I want a real roof over my head with shingles and everything, right now, that just isn't my life. I'm getting by. I'm making it work. And they are too.

Then there are the people that make me question how safe I truly am out here in the sticks.  Let me introduce you to stall #141 and how to tell if your neighbors are meth chemists.
1. There is a car that never moves.
Stall #141 has a Mercedes out front that never moves. In fact, the car is plugged into the RV. Through the trunk. I'm no mechanic, but the battery is under the hood, not in the trunk. Not sure what's being plugged in there or why.

2. You never see a person coming or going.
I've never seen a person at stall #141. Not a single person. Ever. They moved in after me, I guess in the dead of night (hey, we have that in common!), and for the past 6+ months, I haven't seen a person coming or going. The car never moves and the bills that get stapled to their door handle haven't moved either.
3. Electricity is on, but the lights never are.
The electricity is hooked up. They have power to the place. What are they using it for? No idea. Their lights are NEVER on. At least that I can see. So maybe no one is in there.
4. Water out, but no water in.
The weirdest thing: they have their drainage hooked up, but not their water line into the RV. They can put things down the toilet or down the sink, but they don't have running water to go with it. Cue Twilight Zone music. Oh and here's Rod Serling, my hero:

Watch The Twilight Zone. It's the best.

So here's what I think: it's a meth lab. They're cooking up a storm in there, or they have cooked it all and picked it up and will only return when they need more to sell.

What do you think is going on in Stall #141?

Hopefully nothing blows up,
Ray

It's All Fun and Games Until the Meth Heads Show Up - Laundry Day

When I lived in my apartment, laundry was no big deal. I walked a few yards from my bedroom to the laundry closet and did load after load easily. I actually really like folding clothes too. Turn on the TV and fold, fold, fold. Very nice. Living in a trailer park however, I'm back to carrying my clothes in laundry bag over to the laundry facility (luckily this is on-site and I don't have to drive somewhere to do laundry) and washing all my clothes in one load to save time and quarters - just like the good old days back in the dorm.
At the trailer park, the laundry facility, workout room, rec room, and "library" are all connected. Yeah, library. More on that later. When you walk in, you're in the laundry room. It's got one wall of washers, one wall of dryers, and two 8ft plastic tables pushed together in the middle. Sometimes there are chairs to sit on! Passed that is the workout room, which in all honesty, is better than the one at my old apartment. Further back from there is the library and vending machines. Off to the left of that is the rec room that's only open whenever I'm not there to see it. Thursday is ladies card game night. I haven't yet attended.
The first time I did my laundry, I went on a Tuesday evening. I had finally run out of clothes. I had been putting off going to the laundry facility as long as possible. It seemed like a big 'ol boring time. Plus, clothes don't really get that dirty, right? You can wear things more than once, right?

It being a Tuesday, I figured it would be deserted since most people do their laundry on the weekends. I was looking forward to some peace and quiet as I watched TV shows on my laptop with ear buds in and waited on my clothes to wash. I don't know about you, but where (and when) I come from, ear buds in your ears mean you aren't open to having a conversation. However, in Shady Grove, that rule does not exist. When I get to the laundry room, I get my clothes going in the washer and sit down with my laptop. There are two other people doing their clothes, but one guy has his in the dryer already. He'll be gone soon. The other person was a cute little old lady (retirement village, told ya.) who was sitting and waiting on her clothes to wash too. So I sign in to Hulu after the precursory stay-away-and-don't-talk-to-me half smile to my neighbors and settle in for some Sleepy Hollow and Big Bang Theory catching up. It's easy to avoid eye contact when you have a 17 inch screen in your face, but the chairs are not comfortable, and the machines take forever to wash your clothes. I had to get up a few times to stretch my legs, and every time someone would say something to me. I'm not an unfriendly person, but I don't really feel in my comfort zone at zero dark thirty in a new place with strangers around me. Though the man now folding his tighty whities seemed safe enough, I just felt out of place talking to him about the weather. Finally, I put my clothes in the dryer. The lady was getting her clothes out of the dryer, and the man had left. While starting my clothes in the dryer, the lady strikes up a conversation with me about what I do for a living. At the time, I was working at a horse riding center for children and adults with special needs. Turns out her granddaughter has a disability, so she was very interested in learning more. It was a nice conversation. But she soon left. Finally, I was alone with the sound of a dryer in the background and that Ichabod Crane character in my ears.

You're welcome.

Since the dryers are old, it takes two cycles to actually dry your clothes in one. I was in the laundry facility really late. The cool thing about the laundry facility is that the door automatically locks, and you have to be a resident to get the code to open the door. What's not cool is that when I walk up to the laundry facility, I usually find the door like this:

I guess the old lady left the door open when she left, or the next guests were actually residents. In any case, I'm pretty sure they were high on meth. The girl had the greasy, two-toned hair of someone who stopped caring about life, was in Spongebob pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. Her companion was a guy in sweat pants, Carhart jacket, and house slippers. They came in and looked at the washers, went to the vending machines, came back and looked at the washers some more. Since I had my ear buds in, I couldn't hear much of their conversation, but then my dryer quit and I started folding clothes with my laptop off. Turns out, THEY HAD NO IDEA HOW TO WORK THE WASHING MACHINE. This couple was in their 20s, my guess is living alone there at the trailer park, and couldn't figure out that you put the quarters in here, the water comes out there, and you need some detergent in the mix at some point. How they made it through life to that point is astounding, though when I think back, it's pretty easy to guess that maybe they never washed their clothes. Ever.
They left after finally seeing how to work the machines, presumably to get some clothes to put in them, and I soon left with my very full laundry bag of clean clothes. My RV isn't too far away from the laundry/rec/work out room/library, so I didn't have too long to think about what might jump out at me in the darkness. Meth heads in pajamas are the things of nightmares in a trailer park. But I had survived to tell the tale!
The next time I did laundry there, I went in the day time.

May you always be able to avoid conversations with strangers or at least leave before the idiots arrive,
Ray