My New Neighbors

We have settled into the trailer park and Mike left this afternoon to return to Granby. His only jobs when he gets there are to: sell the house, move the horse, move the two dogs, catch the cat in order to move him, move all the furniture 1,019 miles and try to keep my flower gardens alive until we sell the house.

Our neighbors are rather, well, let's say interesting. Very few of the people here are on a temporary basis or maybe they thought they were here on a temporary basis and now it's more semi-permanent. God help me if that happens to us.

Across the gravel road from us is a rather large woman whose wardrobe consists of either sheer shirts or leopard stretchy pants. It's rather alarming and I try not to laugh when I see her because I think she might be nice or she might be schizophrenic and if I do laugh at her she may put a hex on me. Next to her is "C2" where a faint aroma of pot is always present and the man who lives there has purple hair and black fingernail polish. There's also Doug, who for the first two or three days, I wasn't sure if he was a she or a he. He always dresses in pink and has long gray hair. He leaves early in the morning on his bike and always has on a silver ski coat (it was 91 degrees today) and has an orange cat that he walks on a leash. Last night I brought him dinner and he gave me a handful of Ruffles potato chips - kind of a trade of sorts but I slowly dribbled them out of my hand as I strolled to my lovely abode. I didn't want to insult him; again there's that fear factor going on. One of the people who runs the park is from New York and has plates in his face from a drunk driving accident, so he had to move to a warmer climate so his face wasn't cold all the time. The other woman who works here has always run RV parks; she even goes to conferences (who knew there were conferences on running RV parks??) and her husband finally died last year after multiple illnesses. There is also Mike who was a trained chef and grows squash in pots by his door but now works on apartment maintenance.

There's also a large, really, really large spider who lives in the bathroom. You have to press a code to get into the bathroom and then turn a timer switch on for the lights. The spider is usually in the middle stall or under the far sink. She's very scary, although not as scary as the woman in see-through clothes, but I think we've come to an understanding in that if I leave her alone, she leaves me alone.

I had my interview and besides the eleven or so stupid things I said and the fact that my neutral colored shoes gave me blisters, I think it went okay. Maybe. I hope so since Ian already has my first check spent on an apartment, a small flat screen TV, new running shoes, school clothes and some new violent game for his X-Box. I'm starting to understand how Mike feels; he does all the work and I get all the money.