I live in a two bedroom trailer in a dumpy no-frills trailer park in one of the nicest towns on this side of the Connecticut River. I’m a mile away from gorgeous beaches, state parks, and historical sites galore. The schools here are excellent, and thanks our friendly local nuclear power plant, taxes are reasonable. If you can get past the insufferable snobs, the nasty cold winters, and the weekly tests of the emergency broadcast system that are special to the towns occupied by nuclear reactors, you might say that this ain’t a bad place to live.
I myself would prefer the balmy, always sort of hot but at least pretty warm climates of the Gulf Coast, or maybe southern California. But alas, I share my daughter with her dad, and he isn’t willing to move somewhere a little more temperate. Trust me, I’ve asked. Repeatedly.
So, I complain about where I live pretty much eight or nine months out of the year. I’m comfortable in June through September, and that’s about it. Otherwise, it’s just too damn cold.
Also, remember? The trailer. It’s not pretty. It’s pretty much a little box with some walls and carpet and appliances. I don’t have money for fancy furniture (everything I own is either Ikea or found in someones basement or on the side of the road). There are no shelves in my kitchen cabinets and I don’t have any kitchen drawers. My hallway is pretty much my closet, because there’s no storage space. Poor Elise is shoved with all of her stuff into a teeny-tiny closet of a room. I could go on and on.
But, I like working with space. I like having a place to put my stuff. Although I’m a pretty messy person in general and don’t always have the place picked up, I like to at least give off the appearance that I capable of having nice things.
And I like to think that if I did have a bigger, nicer place and more money to work with, I would do even more with the space that I have. Spend more time and effort on decorating and making home crafts like I used to do when I lived downtown.
But you know what I love about where I am now? I mean, really, really love?
I have the comfiest pillows and the softest sheets and the most AMAZING jersey / tee-shirt fabric comforter that I got from Target. I just love everything about it.
I had a box-spring with a mattress on top sitting on the floor for years, ever since I moved out of my parents house, I’ve never had a real bed. But last spring I finally went out and got my first bed frame (from Ikea! $99.00!) and I love it. I need to get a long, thin canvas or a few smaller canvases to make some craft to go over my head board, and I just bought some white Christmas lights that I am going to thread through the headboard and see whether it looking cool outweighs it being annoying.
I’ll tell you what. My little piece of trailer park heaven might not look like much to the average bear, but I have a huge feeling of satisfaction and contentment just knowing that I have a place that is just MINE. Well, and Elise’s. But mostly mine. I have no roommate I am forced to compromise with, no parents that I have to submit to the whims of. I am finally a grown ass adult and I have my own home and I’m never going back.
I need to be the queen of my kingdom. Or something. And I rule from my bed, of course.
I’m carrying on (and catching up) with Kat McNally’s Reverb14.
For yesterday’s post, someone asked:
What unfinished projects from 2014 are you willing to release now? (Regret not required.)
Oh, that one’s easy!
Today’s question was: