We hit a bit of a snag last week when the sanitation guy came to pump out our grey water on Thursday. I had a feeling we had an issue when I peeked out the bedroom window that morning. It was raining and incredibly mucky where we’d cleared all the trees, but Gary told me not to worry and to go back to sleep while he headed out to get gas for the generator.
The first couple of times Stilton’s came to pump us out, we had been right up against the road, but we had moved the trailer onto the property and we were at least two hundred feet from the road now. I waited until I heard Gary turn the key in the lock and got up – I just had this feeling…
Less than twenty minutes later I heard a truck come barreling in across the mud, and when I looked out, it was backing up so fast that it knocked over one of the drums we’d been using for burning brush.
I threw on my coat and boots and headed out onto the deck that Gary had just finished putting up the day before. I waved my hands and when that didn’t work I put my fingers in my mouth and whistled; something I’d learned to do as a kid.
He stopped and turned to look at me like he’d seen a ghost or something and then threw open the door to his truck. He starts grumping at me, saying that he’s pretty sure he’s going to get stuck and that I better keep my fingers crossed. I assure him that I will… He has no idea that his aggressive nature has already struck the fear of God into me and I’ll agree to just about anything to get him the heck out of my space!
The next thing he does, is start throwing the hose, one hoop at a time onto the ground. All the while, he’s grumping at me and it makes me take a couple of steps back - literally. Luckily, I was up on our deck and I knew I could get back inside and lock the door before he could make it up the stairs, but still, he made me nervous.
He stomped around to the back of the trailer like a child that had just had his T.V. privileges taken away from him, and I heard him yank the cap off the waste water drain. I thought about going back inside and ignoring him, but decided it would be better to stay where I was, so I could find out if this was his last time pumping us out for the season.
After what seemed like an interminable time, he came walking back, dragging the hose behind him. He said something under his breath about not coming back and when I asked him what he said, he just said cross your fingers. He strung the hose back up on the side of the truck, climbed into his truck, gave me one of the dirtiest looks I’ve had in a long time and slammed his door.
I crossed my fingers and my toes, because there was no way I wanted this angry man spending any more time on my property than he had to. Then I watched in horror as he turned his front wheels on a forty-five-degree angle before he even put his foot on the gas. It was almost like he wanted to get stuck to prove a point. He accelerated like he was trying to do a burn-out and I watched as he dug six-inch trenches in the muck the two hundred plus feet in between the trailer and the road.
Finally he was gone, and I knew he wasn’t coming back. That’s when I started to cry, not only because I was relieved that he was gone, but because I knew we had to pack up and leave straight away. I was so worried about where we were going to go, or who we were going to impose on because we hadn’t made any plans for accommodations until the end of November. Which was when we thought we’d need them…
When Gary got back he saw that I’d been crying and asked me if I was okay? I told him what had happened, and he hugged me, agreed that we’d have to leave, and we started packing up.
I couldn’t stop crying as I looked around at what had become familiar to me, knowing that we were moving again. Sure, we had a place to stay while we built our house, but it wasn’t ours and it would have nothing of ours in it and that thought made me feel like a fish out of water. Plus, the fact that it wasn’t available until the end of November and we were going to have to put out one of our friends until then.
We had a place in mind because it had been offered to us in the past and we’d stayed there many times before, but for some reason I felt really anxious. This time we weren’t just staying for one night. We needed a place to stay for just over three weeks and that was a lot to ask of anyone.
I had this ominous feeling deep in my gut that somehow this was crossing a friendship’s boundaries, so I cried most of the way there. I just couldn’t get over the sense of foreboding growing in my gut and I was feeling extremely anxious. I’m honestly not sure why, but I did.
When we arrived, we were greeted like we hadn’t been there in years and the sense of foreboding went away completely as hugs were shared. As usual, they made us feel like we had just come home from a long trip and told us we could stay as long as we wanted.
So here we are; couch-surfing for the next three weeks. We’re no longer in our house on wheels, but we’re living on the fly. For the most part, I’m feeling okay about it because it’s not for very long, and then we’ll be living on our own again. It won’t be in our own place yet; it’s a house-sitting gig, but I’ll have my service dog, and I know that together, he and I will help each other to remember that home truly is where the heart is.
Stay safe, and stay strong. Thanks for following.