Almost a month. Doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, and feels like it’s not nearly long enough all at the same time. June 3rd, we walked out of the house, left the keys on the kitchen counter, and locked the door… never to be housed again.
The first week was a complete and total shitshow. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived out of the trunk of a Corolla… the last time I did it, I didn’t have three furbs with me. For the first week, I had absolutely no idea where anything was, no idea how much of anything we needed to carry with us, no idea how we were all going to eat, sleep, shit, shower, and breathe.
But we made it. Here we are, day 25, and we’re all still eating, sleeping, shitting, occasionally showering, and breathing. That would be a screaming success standard in itself, but it’s so much better than that. We’re all enthusiastically, stupidly, unreasonably happy. We’ve had some serious bumps along the way, and on paper it’s enough to make a sane person think I’m totally nuts, but all four of us are better than we’ve been in a long time… maybe ever.
I won’t sugar coat the godawful heat and humidity in Southern Arkansas summer, it’s fuckin’ awful, and it’s not even high summer yet. But we’re figuring it out. We’re incredibly fortunate that we have the air conditioned car, when it’s just entirely too much. A few days this past week, we spent the bulk of the day napping in the car with the air conditioning running, after not sleeping at all the night before because we were eaten alive by bugs. But we always have good food to eat, and we always have each other, and that’s more than most have. We didn’t do anything to earn that, we don’t deserve it, and we’re super grateful.
Several people have mentioned, suggested, asked that I should have been journaling every moment of this. That wasn’t really a thing that was possible. Most of what’s happened wasn’t something I was capable of processing in real time, wasn’t really something I was qualified to write down, felt more like a movie I was watching than a reality I was living.
I’ve just been breathing in and out, keeping us all as fed and sheltered and safe as I knew how, dealing with the changes moment to moment. I wish I knew the perfect and right thing to say about all of it, what got us here and why we’re here, but I don’t. It’s just this thing I felt like I had to do, so that’s what I’m doing. The people who should write the book, are the furbs… I wish they spoke English and could tell you the story from their perspective. These sweet babies didn’t get a vote, didn’t get an explanation, didn’t get any notice. They’ve been amazing, I don’t know what I would have done without them.
The best piece of functional information I learned this week? Duplex nails. Tent spikes are garbage. Most are made of aluminum and crumple like a soda can. They won’t actually stake anything except turf and soil that’s golf course quality, they bend and break & just generally suck balls. The steel ones I’ve seen online are so expensive they should make your breakfast in the morning. But a nine-dollar half-size hammer, and a big ol’ box of duplex nails for three bucks, best damn tent spikes ever. Knot the guidelines around the shaft under the first ridge, drive that bitch so far in the ground you need a sonogram to find it, & sleep like the dead because your tent spikes aren’t budgin’… maybe there’s a better method… *probably* there’s a better method… but that’s what I learned this week.
More soon, much Love,