SO YOU WANT TO LIVE IN THE COUNTRY?

Planning for a place to stay while construction progressed was tricky: We found the most inexpensive living arrangements were to buy “Poopalicious,” a low-mileage 17-foot Dodge motor home for $1000.  It would cost us that to rent one for a week!  It was summer, so we thought it was the perfect alternative. Nights were peaceful, going to sleep with the chirping of tree frogs.  (Crickets make a different sound when rubbing their serrated legs together trying to attract mates.)  Did you know that frogs don’t drink water?  They get their laps from leaves that drip moisture from condensation at night.

Probably at this point, you’re wondering why the motor home was named “Poopalicious.”  As most motor homes are made, it was self-contained with all the comforts of home (?).  It had a bed over the cab of the vehicle, but close to the roof, so that on cold nights, the coolness radiated directly down to the sleeper; simple physics really: Cold air sinks to a lower level.  The closet with accompanying drawer would hold a weekend’s worth of clothes for one person, the double sink was suitable for washing a few dishes at a time, and the bathroom was extra handy...a teeny medicine cabinet over a “Barbie” sink, a shower hose, and a toilet.  The tiny drain hole could be plugged, but we had to be careful about that: The bathroom had only a three-inch lip at the door to keep the water from spilling out into the motor home. The main reason for the tiny plug? It emptied directly into the sewage holding tank and therefore plugged the smell that could emanate from it.  It also prevented back flush from the holding tank should we not empty it every week.  And why wouldn’t we empty it every week?  “Stalag Woofie,” was an elaborate array of electrified hog wire fencing imaginatively attached to the motor home and several pieces of junk furniture.  With four behemoth territorial dogs, we took all precautions to contain them to our junior compound. One day during shower activity and the drain unplugged, this brown, putrid liquid started coming up from the drain.  The holding tank was full!  Down came the fencing and off to the dump station we went.  A true family activity, our whole pack went: four dogs, Spouser, and me.  The motor home’s nickname was sealed; on our way back home; the cap to the holding tank fell off, so there we were limping down the Scenic Highway, being careful not to splatter motorists’ windshields behind us. Other challenges loomed regarding liquid storage: Spouser imaginatively hooked up a gravity-fed water system with the help of Jake, who used his backhoe to move the plastic storage tank to higher ground.  It worked wonderfully.