When I started this blog, it was to find a way to connect
with my wife, while we were apart. At
the time, she was living in Missouri, working on her PhD, and I was stuck alone
in Bryan, Texas. I had been having a
hard time finding a job in Missouri, so I satisfied myself by working as a
software developer for Brazos County. In
order to save money (although it was really so my wife could live in the lap of
luxury), I decided to move into an RV trailer in a trailer park on the edge of
town.
The trailer park was located next to a goat farm, so every
morning, I was woken up by the sounds of goats eating the tree next to my trailer. That’s right, eating the tree. One morning, I came out to find one goat
standing on the back of another, so he could reach the higher branches. But I digress…
The experience wasn’t all bad. Okay, I’m lying, the experience was all bad. Everything about living in a trailer is
smaller. The living room/kitchen/dining
room/office was a single room and was still only about eight feet wide. I could almost put my feet on one side and
touch the other. The bed was only about
five feet long maybe, so my legs hung off the end of it every night. Oh, and the bathroom! The shower was so short that you had to bow
your head to keep from hitting it on the ceiling. For some strange reason, they didn’t put the
nozzle at the top of the wall, so it ended up hitting me in the chest, so I had
to bend almost in half to wash my hair every morning. The toilet was so small that I couldn’t do
both of my businesses at the same time.
So, there was a weird pelvic dance that took place as I alternated
immediate needs. Sometimes I was too tired
to perform the dance and just peed in the shower, which was crammed up against
my knees.
My favorite part, though, was the propane tanks [sarcasm
implied]. The stove, hot-water heater,
and A/C heater all ran off of propane, and I had no way of knowing when it
would run out. So, there were mornings in
the middle of winter when I’d wake up to find the trailer at 35 degrees. There were the showers that turned ice cold
right in the middle, followed by blood-curdling screaming. And the chili that ended up half-cooked as it
heated up on the stove.
Also, for some reason, the lawn mower guy kept tearing up my
sewer hose with the weed-eater. Nobody
else’s, just mine. I never met the man,
so I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything to him personally, but he seemed to
have it out for me. I went through four
sewer hoses over the course of a year.
But the worst part, by far, was the solitude. It was so lonely. I dreaded going home every night, because at
least at work, I had people to talk to.
All that awaited me at home was hours of job searching, half-cooked Frito
pie, and a bed made for dwarves. And if
that wasn’t bad enough, that year and a half apart from my wife nearly broke up
my marriage. It was by far one of the lowest
parts of my life.
And yet…God found a way to talk to me more and show me more
of life during that time than ever before.
Without the distractions of life and the nonsense that we strive for, I
was able to see things clearly. I was
able to have my weird thoughts, take in the overlooked moments, and appreciate
all the things that everyone else takes for granted. I would never want to live in an RV trailer
again, but it makes the life I have now all the more sweeter because I did.
