Ok. I know I haven't mentioned any details of where we're moving to, because I feel like moving to a trailer park requires a bit of an explanation.
Or as the sign says, a "Mobile Lounge."
First of all, because this is important, it's a pretty trailer park. I mean "mobile lounge." I wouldn't be able to live someplace plain or ugly. It would tear at my eyeballs daily. At the least, where I live has to have potential to be pretty.
And when I say it's pretty, I that in a breezy, hundreds of palm trees, overgrown oleander hedges, very kitsch, next to a small airfield, 50's era cottages gone slightly to seed, lots of moths but very clean sort of way.
Have you ever seen the movie version of Great Expectations with Gwyneth Paltrow and Ethan Hawk? It reminds me of that, in the best possible way, complete with the vague aroma of Miss Dismore brand of batshit crazy.
No pet restrictions. I can have 37 cats if I want, or a paraplegic puppy named Matilda.*
I'll have a smidge of a yard, and a vine covered carport. And a hose. I'm really happy about having my own hose. It's the little things in life. Like having trash cans right outside the kitchen door, not a dumpster at the far end of the parking lot.
It's closer to work. Not a lot closer, but closer.
There is a front porch. A real one, not just a walkway to the neighbors door either. I can put out chairs and all my plants and maybe even that pulpit I bought at a yard sale a couple years ago, which makes an excellent bar.
My own washer and dryer, yay!
If the next door neighbors are drug dealers, at least they're quiet about it.
And that's all I really ask out of life.
*actually a distinct possibility.
Or as the sign says, a "Mobile Lounge."
First of all, because this is important, it's a pretty trailer park. I mean "mobile lounge." I wouldn't be able to live someplace plain or ugly. It would tear at my eyeballs daily. At the least, where I live has to have potential to be pretty.
And when I say it's pretty, I that in a breezy, hundreds of palm trees, overgrown oleander hedges, very kitsch, next to a small airfield, 50's era cottages gone slightly to seed, lots of moths but very clean sort of way.
Have you ever seen the movie version of Great Expectations with Gwyneth Paltrow and Ethan Hawk? It reminds me of that, in the best possible way, complete with the vague aroma of Miss Dismore brand of batshit crazy.
And on to more concrete advantages.
It's crazy-cheap. Cheaper than my apartment.
It's bigger than my apartment. Doublewide, baby. Nick's bikes get their own room. I get, in addition to the regular closet, a huge walk in closet with a desk and a window, which will be my craft nook. Side note - I love the word 'nook.'
I can paint the walls. I've lived with white walls all my life. I am sick to death of white walls. I can PAINT, and boy oh boy do I have plans along those lines.No pet restrictions. I can have 37 cats if I want, or a paraplegic puppy named Matilda.*
I'll have a smidge of a yard, and a vine covered carport. And a hose. I'm really happy about having my own hose. It's the little things in life. Like having trash cans right outside the kitchen door, not a dumpster at the far end of the parking lot.
It's closer to work. Not a lot closer, but closer.
There is a front porch. A real one, not just a walkway to the neighbors door either. I can put out chairs and all my plants and maybe even that pulpit I bought at a yard sale a couple years ago, which makes an excellent bar.
My own washer and dryer, yay!
If the next door neighbors are drug dealers, at least they're quiet about it.
And that's all I really ask out of life.
*actually a distinct possibility.
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