Trailer Trash

Current mood: fascinated

So, many of you know that Travis is now residing in a lovely one bedroom mobile home, trailer, tin can, or whatever you would like to call it. My best guess is that it is about 45-50 years old, because my parents once owned one with very similar features before I was born. I can also only estimate the total living space as somewhere in the neighborhood of 750-900 square feet, tops, on a good day when all the dishes are put away.

When we saw it, we were somewhat underwhelmed. But, the price was right and the landlord is a licensed state water broker (have no idea what that really means and to us he could be a licensed state witch doctor for all it matters), so there is no water bill, and ringer number three is that there is a washer and dryer in the trailer. So, only one utility bill-the electricity, and no laundromat needed for the geographical bachelor who works an insane number of hours, six days a week. OK. Yay, right?

Ha!

We noticed when we saw the trailer that there were gazillions of squirrels on the property. Maybe I am WAY too much of a chicky-chick, but I thought they were adorable and wonderful and that it would be super-awesome to live in a place with its own supply of wildlife entertainment to watch. Travis just kind of looked at them with his one expression. The landlord said he seeks ways to rid the property of them. OK.

It was maybe the third or fourth night I returned home from South Carolina when Travis called and was talking about his new place. He said it wasn't all that bad except at night. I thought I was being pretty cute when I asked him if the boogie man lived there. He said he didn't but that if one more (fill in the blank-ing) squirrel jumped and landed on top of the trailer with a resounding thud in the middle of the night he might just have to lose his mind. He said it took him a couple of nights to figure out what was making the noise which awakened him with a jolt of panic every ten minutes or so. Being the supportive and understanding wife I am, I giggled. He then told me pellet gunning the little charmers is a popular sport in the neighborhood. (Dear PETA, my husband does not own a pellet gun. There is absolutely no room in his allowance for a pellet gun. Go throw acorns at someone else. Love, Stacie)

We expected Travis' electric bill to go up in the coming months with the warmer weather on the way. His trailer is cooled by two window units on either end of the house. He said there are some days when the indoor temperature at the trailer is about twenty degrees warmer than the outdoor temperature because he doesn't run the coolers when he is not home. OK. So when I asked him about running them when he is home, he said he doesn't yet because he still has to use a little heat in the mornings to take the edge off when he is getting ready to leave. He said he just opens the front door and the two windows which aren't bolted shut and the place usually cools down within a half hour or so.

Are we talking luxury here, or what?

About two weeks ago, Travis came home one evening to a note taped to the front door. It stated that the author was the prior tennant and that there had been some discrepancy at the power company regarding our turning the power on and he also was asking if any of his mail had been delivered to Travis. The note gave a phone number and name and Travis called him back. After speaking, Travis said the guy sounds shady, as he moved out in November and we signed the lease and had the power put in our names in March. Travis said he thinks the guy is just not someone worth knowing. So that was that and he didn't hear any more from him after that.
Just last weekend Travis noticed that none of the electrical outlets in the bedroom were working. He has called the landlord who stated he would put the repairs on his list and get to it as soon as he is able. Apparently ability is a relative term. Maybe I can get to the next rent check as soon as I am able. Should we speak that language?

Since settling in and establishing a bit more of an evening routine, Travis has taken to renting movies so he might relax before going to bed. Travis really likes watching movies and always has. This past Tuesday night the kids and I were eating dinner when I got a text from Travis which read, "the cops just raided my trailer." I texted him back inquiring as to the validity of the statement. Then, my phone rang. It was Travis.

He had been kicked back relaxing in his fabulous space watching a movie in the darkened trailer. All was seemingly calm until an obnoxious pounding came at the door. Startled by such a disturbance the Platoon Sergeant bounded from his fine furniture and headed for the window to look outside. He saw no one. This angered our hero, so he took hold of the doorknob while placing a foot on the door. In one motion he both released the door and kicked it open, hoping to hit and severely maim whomsoever might be on the other side. The door swung swiftly open then rebounded shut. He again forced the door open, stepped on the stoop and half-hollered a phrase those dearest to him have heard him declare/state/ask/howl many times. Alas, there was no knocker. When he turned slightly to return to his hovel he noticed two figures coming from around the corner with their hands on weapons resting on unsecured holsters. They called a name and he answered, "No?" They asked if their intended was there and he again said, "No?" They asked if the could enter and he said, "Yes?" After much discussion it appears that Previous Freak Dude is a wanted man. Then the trailer was thouroughly searched for the presence of PFD. After that, our men in blue left, encouraging the valiant Travis to let PFD know that they are looking for him. Great.

So, one month of the lease is finished. Five more to go.