Three Years in an RV
I keep telling Chewie and Dobby (my sons), “Clean and pack up your room as if your parents might move the next time you leave the house.”
This is, as you might imagine, not productive. Aren’t parents supposed to stay in one place and wait for their children to return?
Pookie (my husband) and I have a different plan. When he retires we’re going to sell this house, pack what we need into a toy hauler (that’s a travel trailer with a tiny garage space in the back, perfect for the motorcycle), and go. We’re going to go wherever we want, whenever we want.
Maybe we’ll visit every national park in the lower 48 and Alaska. Maybe we’ll see every single NASCAR track and race in a single season. Maybe we’ll find an RV park in Queens and ride the train to Broadway every day for a month straight.
We’ll have cameras and fishing tackle and ham radios and whatever crochet project currently consumes me. We’ll have no mortgage payment or power bill or property taxes.
By this time Chewie and Dobby ought to have their own homes, right? They’ll have RV hookups installed. This time they’ll be the ones expected to stay in place and wait for us.
I know we can’t carry on that way forever. After two or three years I imagine we’ll have found the perfect place to settle and build our tiny retirement house.
If I get what I really want, then Zack Giffin will build this tiny house, and there we’ll stay forever and ever.
Living tiny and loving it.
Nervous Knots 
grest article!
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Thanks Melinda!
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