Call it coincidence or name it calling, but I am feeling nudged toward a bit more transparency in my blogging. First of all, my life is in an unusual state right now…living in a motorhome. And I’m attempting to blog about our life and experiences fixing up a 100-year-old farm house while living in an RV. Life in general right now is screaming, “Be transparent!” And I’m in a writing class where I was asked to describe my strengths and weakness of writing. Being personal is my weakness in writing.
So, for this post I’ll aim to shed light on a little more RV living reality. Deep breath. Here goes.
Today, I finally got the little one to sleep. I laid her down and she stayed down, for about 45 minutes. Just enough time for me to pull the wagon loaded with laundry about 400 feet to the rat-infested house and start the washing machine. When I got back to the motorhome, I made lunch, logged onto the computer to pay the bill for my online class, called the school twice with billing questions, and woke the little one with my phone conversation. Now that part of the day may not seem too unusual. But wait for the conversation my husband and I had after coming home from our eldest daughter’s dance class.
Husband: “We need sh–t-stick protocols. I think I keep grabbing one end and you grab the other. And it’s always put in a different place.”
Me: “Well, I understand now why you hold the end that you hold. I always grab a paper towel to hold it with, so it doesn’t dig into my hand. And I started storing it here, instead of there so it doesn’t drip onto our shoes.”
Husband: “Okay, that sounds like a great plan.”
Now let me explain. An RV toilet is not like a house toilet. And our RV toilet has a very odd corner that everything must turn in order to really flush. Sometimes, we think it flushes, but six to twelve inches down, everything gets clogged at the corner. And then, depending on the type of business conducted we may get one to five uses before the toilet realy needs a good plunging. But, as I explained, RV toilets are not like normal toilets. A typical plunger won’t work. And we tried the three snakes that were in the basement compartments of the RV when we bought it;they don’t work either.
So, the poop-stick is a car antenna. It bends just enough to turn the corner, but it’s small enough to not get stuck. And, yes, it took us both a bit of individual experience before we were both on the same wavelength about which end was best for holding and which end was best for plunging, not because of disagreements, but because when we have the opportunities for conversations we typically find other topics more worthy of our attention.
The RV is currently backed into a covered carport attached to the side of the barn. We see the barn owl fly from his roost every evening as the sun goes down. And we have a stunning vineyard and mountain view from the large front window. We have power, and heat, and a cook stove, and Netflix, and Amazon Prime, and Internet, and a hot shower if we are quick. And we have the blessing of hope for a beautiful remodeled farm house. And just to remind us that we are still human while living the dream, the poop-stick sits on a ledge not too far from the RV door.