Wishful Thinking
The cabin addition that we are to build here at this campground has changed its proposed size 6 times at last counting. Since this is Texas, we don’t worry about frost or snow loads, and there is apparently no building inspector and certainly no plans on paper. The project is beginning to resemble boys building a fort in the woods.
The shack we are adding onto is dilapidated, rotting in some places and far from square or level. Right now it is being used to store a lot of “perfectly good stuff”. There is a lot of that lying in heaps in various corners of the property.
It is implied that we are on the Guadeloupe River, and while that is technically true, you have to walk a ways to the one distant corner of the property that does touch it.
The RV and cabin areas are crowded together in a clearing above, out of the flood plain. The cabins are one small room and run down. Of the 12 of them, two are used for storage and near collapse, 6 of them are rented to people who are down on their luck: a pair of well pickled construction guys, a divorce victim, single mom with kid, dad and mom with kid, and mom and dad with two kids. All nice if forlorn, although we are watching our tools because of the pickled guys. There are 6 full hook-up RV sites, us, a construction guy who always wears cowboy boots and a big hat with his creased jeans, a couple in a motor home who are building a house in the area, and two more fifth wheels with people who apparently have a job to go to. We have by far the most presentable rig, and the least amount of stuff around it.
There are 6 water and electric sites, but no one in them. And down in the oak grove by the dried up creek that leads to the river, there is a tenting area that sometimes has folks on the weekend. this is by far the nicest area of the campground, I would happily rough it down here in the Airstream.
The Lodge was once a snack and bait shop and is heading to be a nice place someday maybe. I was working on fixing it up a bit, but an exotic dancer with 3 dogs has rented it.
We are supposed to work a total of 15 hours a week to pay for our site and then get paid for anything above that. There is no shortage of things that need doing, but what to do about them changes by the hour.
Actually, I find it a great relief to have no rules, dogs run loose and poop everywhere, I put up a clothesline in the trees, the lawn doesn’t exist except in theory. It’s all very relaxed and funky. Since the owner can’t decide what we should do, we can pretty well do as we please, especially when he goes back to Houston to his art gallery and leaves us in peace.
This weekend turned into a sort of Three Stooges movie. The owner was bragging that the place was full and that the big party would be arriving at 3:00 PM on Friday. So I hurried up and cleaned the one cabin I hadn’t done. The owner was using it to shower in, which I didn't know, so I pitched his shampoo and razor (he did tell me to clean it....) The party that rented the 3 cabins didn't show up until 9:30 PM and were way too many people for 3 cabins which have one double bed and one futon in them. There is only one fold up cot that isn't buried under piles of “perfectly good” mattresses, shower enclosures, and moribund window shades. Plus some of them didn't know to bring sheets and towels. I have a basket of shabby sheets and spreads that I keep handing out to construction workers who show up without, but they just sleep on the bare mattress. So I got that basket for them.
Anyway they all got settled for the night. Next day one cabinful left, took all their stuff and I was told by the sort of assistant manager that they were gone for good. ( no surprise, this place is pretty seedy) That was cabin #6, so I figured Don’s grandson who was visiting could go in there for the night instead of on our floor. At about 7:00 PM a young couple showed up for a cabin, and the owner showed them # 6. So I figured, I would put the grandson in #12. BUT, #6 was dirty, of course, so the young couple refused it and went into #12, and I put him into #6. At about midnight, a lady from the original party knocked on #6 because the lights were on and said she thought they had the use of it for the whole weekend. I had told him he might have to move, but the lady gave up.
We were a little nervous about putting the grandson in there, without paying, and sneaked him out, and off he went. About noon, I got a call from the owner off at lunch that #12 had no hot water. And neither it turned out did #11, which apparently shares a heater. I flipped all breakers in the area, since the source for electricity in these cabins might come from anywhere. The young couple cut short their tryst and left in disgust. They were first shown a dirty cabin and then one with no hot water. And surely will tell anyone who listens that this place is a dump.
We are beginning to think we should have a plan B for the winter. The weather here is great, 70’s in the day, 40-50 at night, but I am afraid that it is just a matter of time until the owner does something so stupid that we won't be able to stand it here. As it is, he is stretching our patience.
And apparently his parent’s patience too, since his father bought this place for him and expects to get paid something every month. The owner is 52, looks as thought he was an exceptionally beautiful child, and seems to be rudderless. It is really better than a movie because there is no danger music or other foreshadowing of the plot and we can look forward to endless unexpected twists and surprises.
The other event of note is that, for complicated accounting reasons, Don had to buy a new trailer. So we traded the 1998 Jayco in for a 2006 model. It has a rear kitchen big enough to run a restaurant out of, but not the two huge closets in the bath area. It has less bedroom closet and drawer space but much better space in the compartment underneath. The bed is king-sized, which I think takes up room that I would rather have for storage. We told them to take out the overstuffed and opulently upholstered sofa bed and built ourselves a nice double desk in front of a huge window. I am gradually getting rid of the Las Vegas Madame style valances and it looks pretty good. As always moving and resorting stuff was exhausting and it will take at least another week to reliably find things.
I am looking out into a sunny, ruined pasture that has the alien dinner plate sized cactus in it, and scrub trees beginning to grow up. There is a falling down weathered building of some sort, and sheets of old tin roofing. Mr. Creased Jeans feeds corn to the deer, so they are very tame and wander in at all hours, and a pair of cardinals appear now and then. Through the trees, I can see a bluer distant hillside, implying the carved out path of the river down below.
It is absolutely quiet here at night and very quiet during the day. It has not rained since we got here, they are 11" short of normal. There is hardly any wind, which feels strange after the endless pushing and hustling on the high plains. Although nothing is frozen, and the trees here don't shed their leaves, there is the same sort of breath held, gone to sleep feeling of winter. It may be that if it rains, life will jump on that opportunity.
The shack we are adding onto is dilapidated, rotting in some places and far from square or level. Right now it is being used to store a lot of “perfectly good stuff”. There is a lot of that lying in heaps in various corners of the property.
It is implied that we are on the Guadeloupe River, and while that is technically true, you have to walk a ways to the one distant corner of the property that does touch it.
The RV and cabin areas are crowded together in a clearing above, out of the flood plain. The cabins are one small room and run down. Of the 12 of them, two are used for storage and near collapse, 6 of them are rented to people who are down on their luck: a pair of well pickled construction guys, a divorce victim, single mom with kid, dad and mom with kid, and mom and dad with two kids. All nice if forlorn, although we are watching our tools because of the pickled guys. There are 6 full hook-up RV sites, us, a construction guy who always wears cowboy boots and a big hat with his creased jeans, a couple in a motor home who are building a house in the area, and two more fifth wheels with people who apparently have a job to go to. We have by far the most presentable rig, and the least amount of stuff around it.
There are 6 water and electric sites, but no one in them. And down in the oak grove by the dried up creek that leads to the river, there is a tenting area that sometimes has folks on the weekend. this is by far the nicest area of the campground, I would happily rough it down here in the Airstream.
The Lodge was once a snack and bait shop and is heading to be a nice place someday maybe. I was working on fixing it up a bit, but an exotic dancer with 3 dogs has rented it.
We are supposed to work a total of 15 hours a week to pay for our site and then get paid for anything above that. There is no shortage of things that need doing, but what to do about them changes by the hour.
Actually, I find it a great relief to have no rules, dogs run loose and poop everywhere, I put up a clothesline in the trees, the lawn doesn’t exist except in theory. It’s all very relaxed and funky. Since the owner can’t decide what we should do, we can pretty well do as we please, especially when he goes back to Houston to his art gallery and leaves us in peace.
This weekend turned into a sort of Three Stooges movie. The owner was bragging that the place was full and that the big party would be arriving at 3:00 PM on Friday. So I hurried up and cleaned the one cabin I hadn’t done. The owner was using it to shower in, which I didn't know, so I pitched his shampoo and razor (he did tell me to clean it....) The party that rented the 3 cabins didn't show up until 9:30 PM and were way too many people for 3 cabins which have one double bed and one futon in them. There is only one fold up cot that isn't buried under piles of “perfectly good” mattresses, shower enclosures, and moribund window shades. Plus some of them didn't know to bring sheets and towels. I have a basket of shabby sheets and spreads that I keep handing out to construction workers who show up without, but they just sleep on the bare mattress. So I got that basket for them.
Anyway they all got settled for the night. Next day one cabinful left, took all their stuff and I was told by the sort of assistant manager that they were gone for good. ( no surprise, this place is pretty seedy) That was cabin #6, so I figured Don’s grandson who was visiting could go in there for the night instead of on our floor. At about 7:00 PM a young couple showed up for a cabin, and the owner showed them # 6. So I figured, I would put the grandson in #12. BUT, #6 was dirty, of course, so the young couple refused it and went into #12, and I put him into #6. At about midnight, a lady from the original party knocked on #6 because the lights were on and said she thought they had the use of it for the whole weekend. I had told him he might have to move, but the lady gave up.
We were a little nervous about putting the grandson in there, without paying, and sneaked him out, and off he went. About noon, I got a call from the owner off at lunch that #12 had no hot water. And neither it turned out did #11, which apparently shares a heater. I flipped all breakers in the area, since the source for electricity in these cabins might come from anywhere. The young couple cut short their tryst and left in disgust. They were first shown a dirty cabin and then one with no hot water. And surely will tell anyone who listens that this place is a dump.
We are beginning to think we should have a plan B for the winter. The weather here is great, 70’s in the day, 40-50 at night, but I am afraid that it is just a matter of time until the owner does something so stupid that we won't be able to stand it here. As it is, he is stretching our patience.
And apparently his parent’s patience too, since his father bought this place for him and expects to get paid something every month. The owner is 52, looks as thought he was an exceptionally beautiful child, and seems to be rudderless. It is really better than a movie because there is no danger music or other foreshadowing of the plot and we can look forward to endless unexpected twists and surprises.
The other event of note is that, for complicated accounting reasons, Don had to buy a new trailer. So we traded the 1998 Jayco in for a 2006 model. It has a rear kitchen big enough to run a restaurant out of, but not the two huge closets in the bath area. It has less bedroom closet and drawer space but much better space in the compartment underneath. The bed is king-sized, which I think takes up room that I would rather have for storage. We told them to take out the overstuffed and opulently upholstered sofa bed and built ourselves a nice double desk in front of a huge window. I am gradually getting rid of the Las Vegas Madame style valances and it looks pretty good. As always moving and resorting stuff was exhausting and it will take at least another week to reliably find things.
I am looking out into a sunny, ruined pasture that has the alien dinner plate sized cactus in it, and scrub trees beginning to grow up. There is a falling down weathered building of some sort, and sheets of old tin roofing. Mr. Creased Jeans feeds corn to the deer, so they are very tame and wander in at all hours, and a pair of cardinals appear now and then. Through the trees, I can see a bluer distant hillside, implying the carved out path of the river down below.
It is absolutely quiet here at night and very quiet during the day. It has not rained since we got here, they are 11" short of normal. There is hardly any wind, which feels strange after the endless pushing and hustling on the high plains. Although nothing is frozen, and the trees here don't shed their leaves, there is the same sort of breath held, gone to sleep feeling of winter. It may be that if it rains, life will jump on that opportunity.
posted by Thistledown24 at 5:39 AM
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