Travel Trailer vs. House
We just spent about 4-1/2 months in a 35′ travel trailer, mostly plunked down in San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico. Now that we are back in our 3500 sq. ft. home, we are noticing significant differences between living in a trailer and living in a house. Like, for instance:
1. In a trailer, everything is at hand. In a house, it’s a case of “Honey, where’s the . . . ?”
2. In a trailer, there’s no need to go shopping for “stuff” because there’s no place to put said stuff. In a house, the sky (well, maybe the pocket book) is the limit.
3. In a trailer, you carefully ration water. A shower is short – douse, shut off tap, soap down, turn on tap, rinse, shut off tap. That’s it. In a house, once again the sky (or rather the capacity of the hot water tank) is the limit. And it feels s-o-o-o good!
4. In a trailer, you’re always in each other’s way, or so it seems. In a house, it’s a case of “Honey, where are you?”
5. In a trailer, every third or fourth day we grumble about having to dump the tanks (Already!? Again!?). In a house, every month we grumble about the water and sewage bill.
6. In a trailer, you use a foot pedal to flush the toilet. In a house, it’s a case of “Where’s the foot pedal? Oh wait, there’s a lever. Fancy that!”
7. Half an hour, at the most, to clean the trailer – dust, sweep, beat the rugs, vacuum and wash the floor. How long does it take to clean a 3500 sq. ft house? FOREVER! Which is why I avoid cleaning the house.
(P.S. Day 7. Half-way through self-isolation and no COVID-19 symptoms. Yet. Self-isolation hasn’t been so bad, but then we’re not the sort to go out much anyway. Our usual destinations are the grocery store, Canadian Tire and our farm just NE of Airdrie. I do miss the weekly gathering of the Airdrie Writers’ Group and my once-weekly visit to my favourite shopping venue — the Salvation Army Thrift Store. Hang in there, everyone. This, too, shall pass.)
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From “Our Bull’s Loose in Town!”, the Spanish Influenza (part 6)
One day I heard Edith singing a lullaby to her doll. “I haven’t heard that one before,” I said. “What are the words?”
She was so proud of herself as she recited:
“I had a little bird,
And its name was Enza.
I opened the window
And in flew Enza.”
I was shocked. “Edith, do you realize what you just said? That isn’t about a bird called Enza flying in your window. It’s about influenza, the flu.”
Poor Edith, she was mortified. “Mom, I’m sorry, I just thought it was a pretty poem. I don’t want influenza flying in my window.”
She was close to tears, so I gave her a hug and said, “It’s okay, you didn’t mean any harm. Just don’t go repeating that poem again.” And she didn’t.
To be continued . . .
#COVID-19 #NovelCoronavirus #SelfIsolation #Quarantine #GoodNeighbours #Pandemic #SocialDistancing #MargaretGHanna
A Prairie Perspective 