My loaded car has most of the practical items needed for living fairly comfortably—a small vacuum, a small microwave, an ice chest, a boom box with my CD’s and cassettes, a few dishes, silverware, tea kettle, drip filter for coffee, a couple of small pots and pans, bedding, toilet paper, and a small assortment of packaged and canned food. I have a habit of keeping my chaos fairly organized.
By now my car has all four doors open and boxes and bags of my provisions are spread around. I get the toilet paper and vacuum and head back inside the trailer to take a quick, creepy, crawly-feeling pee in the toilet. I will drain the holding tank after it soaks for a few hours and hope that its contents have broken down enough to flush down into the sewer. While pulling up my pants, I hear an approaching diesel truck coming down the highway going extremely fast, shaking the trailer like an earthquake. At the same moment I hear pounding on the exterior wall of the trailer. In my panic to escape the confines of the tiny cubicle, I slip on a small area of water that had leaked from the duct taped hose and ram my hip on the door knob of the tiny bathroom. The pounding gets louder. I limp over to the door, which I have bungee-corded open and connected to the side of the trailer, rubbing my new bruise. It’s Ruby. She has a beer in her hand and has tears in her red eyes.
“I’m sorry to bother you Denise, but I’m so upset! My dog, the one I told you about yesterday? Well, he got bit by a rattlesnake this morning and I just know he’s going to die! Billy’s gone and I need to take him to the vet, but I don’t have any money. I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass or anything, but could you lend me a twenty? I promise I’ll pay you back!” I don’t see a car or a dog and wonder how she got here and where the dog is. She continues talking. “I’ll bet this place is a mess! Last guy to live here was the last cook Billy hired over a year ago. He was a druggy, and ripped Billy off for hundreds of dollars. He’s even suing Billy and Ray over something that never happened.” Ruby’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What stinks?” Ruby is no longer crying and I’m appalled to think that I will be sleeping in the bed of a “druggy.”
“I think it’s the holding tank. I’m trying to clear that out. Listen Ruby, I’m pretty busy and don’t have much time. I’ll loan you the twenty, but I’ll need to get it back as soon as you can repay me. I’m kind of short on cash myself these days.”
“Cool! Thanks Denise! I promise.” After the supplies at the store and this twenty, which I might not ever see again, I am now down to $110. Ruby walks away and heads toward the restaurant, tossing her empty beer can on the ground.
Steam is rising from the pot on the Coleman stove. I get a couple of towels to carry the hot kettle with, go pick up the empty beer can, drop it into the trash bin ten feet away, and carry the heated water into the trailer. I put on the new rubber cleaning gloves and pour bleach into the hot water. I start a smaller pot of water to heat up in case I need more, and I can’t help but think that I will certainly need more. The water turns a mustard tan as soon as I dip my wet rag back into it. Nicotine! It’s coated everything! I wipe like a mad woman. No nook or cranny escapes my feverish cleaning— inside cabinets, outside cabinets, walls, counters, and bathroom. There are now several flies that have entered uninvited. I hear the dogs barking and need to stop cleaning to bring them in and feed them. First, I bring in the second pot of water, empty the first, and refill it to heat up again. I get the dogs and shut the screen door that is attached to the broken front door. To my amazement it works just fine. It even snaps shut. I hope this will keep those darn flies out now.
Bonita and Bandito are very happy to have joined me. They explore the small confined area they are in. Bandito runs and jumps up the two steps that go to the double bed in the far rear of the trailer and acts like he’s ready to play. Bonita looks concerned and apprehensive. I feed them, and then go to the car to find my Bug Zapper; a tennis racket-shaped tool that has a battery operated electrical current to zap flies and mosquitoes. I zap until I feel I have conquered the majority of them.
After another hour of cleaning with bleach, I feel satisfied that I will be living in a slightly more sterile environment. I know I have only touched the surface of all the details that need to be done to get the trailer up to my standards, but I have all summer, so I begin carting in all my belongings. I have no idea what time it is, so I check the clock in my car and see it is 4:00PM. I go back inside and set my travel alarm, so I can at least know the time.
The sun is approaching the edge of the mountain range. There is a slight breeze coming up, and the drying tent has blown onto the ground. I roll up the dry tent and put it in the trunk of the car and bring in the dry blankets and down comforter. I lay the comforter on the bed first to separate me from the old, well-used, discolored surface of the “druggy” mattress, and then place the fitted sheet over the comforter. I make a mental note to purchase some Lysol. After that, I make my way back outside to find the valve to empty the holding tank. It was easy to find over on the highway side of the trailer where a large red arrow was pointing down to it reading: ‘To empty holding tank turn valve to the left.’ As I do this, I hear and see the rumbling, heavy, discolored water gushing through the fragile pleated hose on its way to the sewer. When I no longer hear water in the hose, I shut the valve off. I go get the water hose and refill the tank through the toilet and add more blue chemical. Now that the trailer seems to smell better, I make a tuna sandwich and drink a small glass of wine. I finish eating and go outside to drag all the plastic trash bags over to the pile that Bubba and Terry have going.
“Okay kids! We’re going for a walk!” I announce to Bonita and Bandito upon my return. They are out of their minds with excitement.
I decide to walk the dirt drive outside the fifth wheel that leads away from the main building parallel to the highway and wind around the entire oval-shaped park. I had noticed earlier that the small row of trailers next to the highway, like mine, seem more permanent, while the temporary RVs are on the one end and the other side of the lake. The dogs are very happy with their sixteen feet of mobile freedom they are allowed with the leashes.
The sun has just dipped behind the mountains highest peak. There is still plenty of daylight left. It didn’t get too hot today. Thank heavens for that.
About six spaces from my trailer, I approach a trailer that has the golf cart parked in front. So this is where our charming couple live! The area has the look of a full-time tenant. I see the lawn mower, a few attempts with potted flowers, an older, red, beat up Jeep, a huge fire pit with a huge pile of logs next to it, and various bent up cardboard boxes filled with empty beer cans.
Bonita and Bandito see the tiny kittens darting from under the trailer at the same time that I do. They shoot out like bullets from the extending leashes, barking like idiots, springing to a halt and flipping their little bodies around when the line runs out. I have learned through time to keep a firm grip on the handles. They want, need, and desire to rip the heads off the cute little kitties. I hang on tight and slowly reel them in.
With my presence made known, I feel embarrassed. I get a chill down my spine when I realize that Bubba