I have skedaddled away from the coast for a while and nestled inland for a few days before heading north for the Smokey Mountains. It is my intent to install a sink and backup camera over the next six days.
Ha. We shall see.
Our berth tonight is on the water’s edge of a large lake (as so many southern, non-private parks tend to be). We are under pines, sweetgum, elm, tupelo, birch, possum haw, and water and white oak. All of that to say, I can’t breathe through my nose tonight. Spring among the trees!
When we arrived, the afternoon was waning. I unhitched “the Girls” and leveled Blanche, got Sammy settled with water and a snack, and set about making Blanche livable.
Unlike our previous landing place, there is ample room to spread out. There’s room for a whole other trailer and vehicle in this spot, although I’m happy I’m not sharing it. I laid out the outdoor mat, setup my camp chair, and began straightening up Blanche’s interior.
I have learned how to corral much of the items inside the trailer while on the road. Of course, all the little stuff is in cabinets, but cushions for the dinette will end up by the door if left in place and anything “not tied down” also makes its way to the door.
I’ve learned to put cushions on the bed along with the very few items I simply don’t want to stash: i.e., tissue box and phone holder. The items under the bed are now held there by a mesh net I installed.
As I swept and mopped I found a tiny, white, plastic cube. I can’t tell you what it is or where it potentially came from. I can’t even guess as to its purpose other than it looks like it’s a space filler — a plug, if you will. For what, who knows?
I sat and considered it rather mildly. What to do with it? In my house, I would have either thrown it away because, “what would a house need this for?” or I’d have dropped it in a junk drawer until such time as its purpose either came to light or was overcome by events.
In Blanche, I immediately assume it has value. Why? Because I rarely bring anything into her space of which I am unaware. I have found two screws (metal v wood), two rubber “feet”, and this white plug. The screws remain mysteries. The feet I learned, a few days after finding them, attach to a part of my stove. What of this plug?
I don’t have a junk drawer but I have a very small box about 2” x 3” in which I occasionally put parts that I believe I will later need. The plug will go there in case I learn down the line that it is of value.
All of this brought me back to compartmentalization: can I do this same exercise with memory or stress? Can I examine the thing that is hurting or stressing me, decide I don’t know its value for now but am not ready to completely dispense with it, and set it aside?
I think the answer is, “Yes. With time.”
Here’s why I think that: I awoke this morning and began the process of leaving the crowded park in which I was staying. I took my time, knowing I couldn’t check in here until 3 pm. I had a leisurely breakfast, took Sam to the dog run without rushing, and took my time showering, battening down, and hitching up. I enjoyed the process tremendously (only getting frustrated with Sam for barking at squirrels while I struggled with my bike mount). I have come to love hitching and unhitching. It’s almost meditative.
I got on the road, stopped and topped off the tank, and got a sandwich for lunch later.
About an hour after getting on the road, it occurred to me I had not thought about The Things* all morning.
I had simply done what I needed to do to get on the road and find my next “home” and the peace in doing so had allowed me to put The Things in a junk drawer in my mind and go about my life.
The only reason I was thinking about The Things at that moment was the sad love song on my stereo.
I put on an audible book and didn’t think of The Things again until I sat down to write this post and then only thought about them in the context of this post.
Now it is 11:15 pm and I can’t breathe at all and I’m starting to wonder if I have a cold and praying my niece didn’t get it and I hope I can sleep without a functioning nose and tomorrow I want to get up and get a jump on the day but won’t If I don’t sleep and…
and I’m not the least bit interested in thinking about The Things.
*The Things: divorce, income, unfortunate attachment, income, impostor syndrome, income…