and Keeping Tabs on Tabby
Some people give all their money to an Investment Counselor. I give all mine to Lee, the RV mechanic. He was back again this morning to finish up… finish up the work and finish up cleaning out my bank account.
But I am VERY pleased. I think he did a great job and I learned a lot. Here is the finished result of removing the sofa, replacing the flooring and in order to leave the space open, building a ‘throne’ instead of putting the worthless-to-me sofa/bed back in.
As you can see, there is an access door to the storage space underneath. The idea is that I can place a television on the little table opposite the chair. If I had a television, or could be bothered to watch it. Perhaps I could get a folding TV table to sit there and eat from. Perhaps I can get a small computer desk from Office Depot to put in the open space. If I was to do that, I could claim back my dinette as an eating area instead of a server room. (That’s a computer joke. Don’t worry if you don’t get it.)
Making decisions like that… to get a TV, or a TV table, or a computer desk… adds such stress to my daily life. Sometimes I wonder why I bothered to retire and adopt this lifestyle. That, added to having to watch the wind and if it picks up too much, then lower my canopy a few feet. Not to mention complaining about the humidity here or wondering why anyone in his right mind would move to St. Augustine, a town whose population has to be 90% former northerners, so, many have decided to move here.
My biggest daily worry, though, is keeping tabs on Tupelo. I’m not sure if he is adjusting well to this lifestyle.
Even HE has stress in his life, though. there is a mama bird around here who is constantly trying to lure him away from the nest that he has no interest in. She calls constantly, trying to get him to follow her. We must be parked right under the nest. The bird is starting to get on my nerves, in all honesty.
Tupelo has figured out how to wiggle-worm out of his $25, bandana-style harness, however he never seems to wander far away. I do check on him and find him under the trailer – oops ‘coach’ – or under the truck, in the shade. Last Saturday, he was long gone, though. I couldn’t find him anywhere. Saturday, of all days, when the weekenders arrive, I have to wander the campsite telling folks that if they see an orange tabby, he’s mine.
I never did spot him but sure enough, I heard a dog barking and I heard the ‘thunk’ of the steps, signalling his return. I was baffled as, unlike other campsites, this is mostly green, so he should be easy to spot.
I believe the mystery was solved the next day. I had been sitting outside at the picnic table and knew he was under the truck, where I could see him. I looked over and all I saw was him standing on his hind legs, then even they disappeared.
The fleabag. No wonder I couldn’t find him. I’m not surprised to be down to 162 pounds. This Full-time RV-ing is absolutely exhausting. For both of us.