Bus-ted

It's been a while since I had a chance to spill about everything that has been going on. I am still delighted to wake up here each day realize that we actually did it! We changed our lives, a lot. The only thing I sometimes miss is having a big house. I actually started that last sentence planning to make a list of all the things I miss, but other than Skyler and Levi, the spacious house was the only thing.

Those of you who know what life used to be like would crack up if you could see my mornings now. Hugh and I sleep in the old bus. Hugh kindly built the bed up high enough so I can see out the windows, so now that it's getting cold at night, the windows are like cold air vents aimed at our heads. I still have plenty of hair, but alas- poor Hugh. Today we will be hanging a blanket to over the windows to help keep a little of the warm air in.

We do have a small wood stove in there. Hugh has had to experiment a bit to get the heat just right. One night, I came out late and I think it was 120 degrees in there. His shirt was soaked with sweat. Like a lobster in a pot of water, he had not realized how warm it was getting. I couldn't even breathe in there. Another time, there was a lot of smoke in the bus and my lungs stung as he lay peacfully speeping (or perhaps on the edge of comatose). We are still working out the kinks. No matter what, by morning, the fire is out and the bus is c-c-cold.

So, in the morning, I wait as long as my bladder will allow and then slide out of bed. Our bed has about a foot on either side of it, but the wheel wells from the bus keep you from being able to walk without climbing over them, so I usually scooch off the end of the bed. I try to do this without pulling blankets off Hugh, AND trying to keep as much blanket as possible on me for as long as I can. Each morning when my feet hit the cold floor, I vow to start sleeping in socks. I also heard that we have some darn scary spiders here, and I don't want my toes to meet one before I have my teeth brushed. In general, my toes are reluctant to make the acquaintance with a spider at any time of day, but particularly so when my brain might not respond as fast as a spider fang. I am getting better about leaving the clothing I need in plain sight, or plain touch as the mornings are getting darker. The darkness is somewhat welcome, as we had previously relied on laws of probability to preven the neighbor from catching glimpses of white heinie. He has 20 acres, and the chances of him being at that particular spot were slim enough that I regularly rolled those dice.

After I have covered and slipped into my shoes (on the mornings I can find them) I stumble to the bus door, pull the handle and try to stabalize myself enough to walk down the stairs without putting so much pressure on the door mechanism that I pop a bolt off and fall out- which has only happened twice. This maneuver is made more challenging by the fact that, although I should not, I regularly wear my contact to bed and the first moments are a race to the bathroom and saline solution before they dry up and pop out of my eyes. I usually make it.

Yesterday, I actually could not find my shoes and I stepped barefoot onto the FROZEN ground and dashed, squinting, into the house wondering if I will be doing the run in snow shortly.