If I have to suffer thru a Washington winter, living in the woods, in an RV, with arthritis, it has to be for a GREAT reason. Otherwise, it just seems like pointless suffering in an RV.
But suffering for sailing is constructive.
But suffering for sailing is constructive.
Following that intelligent train of thought, I've been considering the following.
I have decided that living in a small environment is about negotiating space.
Space for our belongings, for our bodies, to do life's activities, such as bills, fixing the furnace, sewing, putting on clothes, finding a place to put the dirty ones - everything needs space. Especially my tall body with very long arms and legs.
Our first "RV Rule" came about while I was getting dressed. Shay tried to squeeze and duck past while I have one leg in my pants while I try to hop out of the way, holding my balance against the bed. Usually I need to take up most of the bedroom and bathroom floor space for dressing. (This might sounds decadent but in reality consists of about 2 sq. feet.) There is only one place I can stand that allows for adequate dressing unless I want to use the shower. So now Shay is not allowed to move, not thru, or into the bedroom, while I am dressing.
Hence, RV rule #1 - Stay where you are while someone if performing a task that requires additional space such as dressing, cooking, putting away laundry, or cleaning.
Hence, RV rule #1 - Stay where you are while someone if performing a task that requires additional space such as dressing, cooking, putting away laundry, or cleaning.
Of course, this relates to living on a sailboat too. A sailboat often requires a one-legged Heron yoga pose in order to do most activities aboard. The "dance" that we do on a sailboat, you move right and I slide left is a learned thing.
This summer when we chartered a sailboat for our 1st anniversary in the San Juan Islands we had the chance to practice our new dance skills. It was very natural to negotiate the 32ft boat for the week. In fact, we didn't even use half the boat, it almost seemed too big! A small confirmation that our bodies were adjusting to smaller spaces.
This summer when we chartered a sailboat for our 1st anniversary in the San Juan Islands we had the chance to practice our new dance skills. It was very natural to negotiate the 32ft boat for the week. In fact, we didn't even use half the boat, it almost seemed too big! A small confirmation that our bodies were adjusting to smaller spaces.
But realizing how much space and organization all our belongings require was a big lesson. Unorganized stuff takes up much more space than the same stuff all tidy in it's place. This might sound obvious, but living with all your belongings in 200 sq. feet doesn't leave much air between you and your stuff. You then realize just how little you really need to live. But more importantly, you figure out that if you can't find something you are looking for, or can't get to that something because there are 5 something else's in the way, that the hidden something won't get used. Ever.
And following the RV 'Decree of Hidden Things', they will then get moldy and die, or explode, or disintegrate.
And following the RV 'Decree of Hidden Things', they will then get moldy and die, or explode, or disintegrate.
In the 14 months that we've been living in an RV we've lost quite a bit to the learning curve, including one can of exploding pineapple, a six-pack of rusted ginger ale that leaked and created mold throughout the cabinet, pounds of expensive, organic food that were left exposed to mold, (we invest in ziplock bags now), everything made from wicker (it molds), supplements without silicone packs inside, 5 surge protectors, and some cotton clothes that were in the back of the closet.
After an expensive trip to The Container Store we have organized every cabinet and drawer for ventilation and so we can find exactly what we need. Which came in handy when Shay broke the toilet.
One day while I was getting dressed in my special spot, Shay was courteously sitting still in the "powder room." I hear a flush, and a SNAP, and a quiet exclamation of, "shit."
After finding the broken pin, we realize the valve post had sheared off. I sauntered straight to the spare parts cabinet, pulled out a replacement valve, and handed it to Shay with a smug, "Here ya go."
She looked at me and my proud moment, and then handed it back saying, "Well, fix it then. I can use the toilet at work. Bye. "
So I fixed the toilet. Once I gathered all the tools. Which took longer to find, than actually fixing the toilet.
That is a successful trailer day.
While fixing the toilet, I had romantic visions of a sump pump breaking on the sailboat in the middle of nowhere, and how I would quickly pull out the spare parts I had so smartly stocked, and fix the sump pump mid-passage! I was honing SAILING skills, baby, by fixing the RV toilet!
The more frustrating days for me are when the living area is full of miscellaneous crap. Sewing projects take the entire dining table-slash-secretary-slash-only-table in the RV, plus half the love seat. This leaves half a love seat for 2 people to use, and other than the bed and toilet, there is not another spot to sit. After a week of this frustration and looking at uncompleted sewing projects strung everywhere, my bribing skills became sharpened. I remind Shay that if we were sailing, the sewing machine would not be sitting out, as it would become a dangerous, skull-crushing projectile that would smash anything in it's way.
"Please, can we complete a project or put the project away till next weekend?," I beg, "I can't do the bills, there's no room on the dining table." (Not really true as I already managed to do them on one half of the love seat.)
"Please, can we complete a project or put the project away till next weekend?," I beg, "I can't do the bills, there's no room on the dining table." (Not really true as I already managed to do them on one half of the love seat.)
This whine, repeated daily, eventually resulted in rule #27; All projects must be cleaned up within a few days of initiation so the ONE table can remain open for table activities, such as eating.
Which typically means TWO trips to the storage unit. Sewing machines and large tools do not fit in a 31' RV if you want to have any clothes, or even a chair. So the storage unit becomes our garage.
Well, the truth is that our cars become the garage, and the storage unit a small attic. At any given time the cars are (temporarily, or permanently), storing the tools from the last project, laundry supplies (you thought there was room for a washer and dryer?), grocery bags, recycling, the full compost bin ready to be emptied, cardboard boxes, and the returns to Home Depot from the latest appliance project.
Which typically means TWO trips to the storage unit. Sewing machines and large tools do not fit in a 31' RV if you want to have any clothes, or even a chair. So the storage unit becomes our garage.
Well, the truth is that our cars become the garage, and the storage unit a small attic. At any given time the cars are (temporarily, or permanently), storing the tools from the last project, laundry supplies (you thought there was room for a washer and dryer?), grocery bags, recycling, the full compost bin ready to be emptied, cardboard boxes, and the returns to Home Depot from the latest appliance project.
To keep the RV clean and organized, large items and miscellaneous are stored in the car, until we can get to the storage unit. Which means that Shay can't see anything in the rear view mirror most of the time.
I know many live-aboards with cars that live the same way, because I've seen their cars! It makes me feel better knowing Car Storage is a boat thing too.
I know many live-aboards with cars that live the same way, because I've seen their cars! It makes me feel better knowing Car Storage is a boat thing too.
Speaking of projects, it seems the life expectancy of RV appliances is 1 year. Within the past 2 months the furnace decided to stop working, the refer doesn't work on propane mode, there's a leak in the back RV slide that's creating a puddle in our carpet under the dining table, and the toilet broke, twice. Also, two outlets don't work and the thermostat died.
So we bought a cheap thermostat from Home Depot and rigged it to bypass the control unit in the air conditioner, in the ceiling above the kitchen/living room, until we install a new control unit. It hangs from live wires, supported by duck tape, in trailer trash fashion, high enough that Shay needs a step stool to change the thermostat.
But at least it's not on the table.
I don't need a step stool, but evidently I need a night light.
About 3am, the other night, I was attempting to find the hanging thermostat in the dark but my toe found the step stool first. Now I have a broken toe. Not sure if this is due to old age, klutziness or a stool in the middle of the living room, so I'll save judgment till my ego is recovered.
But at least it's not on the table.
I don't need a step stool, but evidently I need a night light.
About 3am, the other night, I was attempting to find the hanging thermostat in the dark but my toe found the step stool first. Now I have a broken toe. Not sure if this is due to old age, klutziness or a stool in the middle of the living room, so I'll save judgment till my ego is recovered.
It's all about negotiating space. Moving things from storage unit to trailer to car to storage unit and finally, when we tire of the game, to Craigslist. Learning how to navigate small space while living with someone. How to negotiate with each other our priorities, hopefully without arguing about it.
After over a year, I think we've learned a lot about living small. How to do the "dance" that is moving by each other in tight spaces. How to really organize stuff, and definitely how to learn to live with less than I ever thought possible. Less room in the refrigerator, less shoes, more patience, more compromise, more learning to make do.
Looking back at our decision to live in an RV, hoping it would help us adjust to living on a sailboat, I think it has. It's been a challenging learning curve to go from living in a house with 1600 sq. ft, a basement, attic and garage to less than 200 sq. feet and a storage unit 2 miles away.
I can't imagine having moved straight from our home to a 38ft sailboat and surviving each other and a Washington winter.
We remind ourselves weekly that we are learning to live in tight quarters, that our footprint is smaller. We are learning how to fix appliances quickly and make do without them. We are readying ourselves to live on a sailboat. I tell myself that I am learning spacial negotiating, organizing and repair skills. I will be a better sailor for the suffering.
We remind ourselves weekly that we are learning to live in tight quarters, that our footprint is smaller. We are learning how to fix appliances quickly and make do without them. We are readying ourselves to live on a sailboat. I tell myself that I am learning spacial negotiating, organizing and repair skills. I will be a better sailor for the suffering.
However, we don't get to sail our trailer.
Which begs the question of how sane we really are. But who said sailors were sane?
Our first anniversary sail was a trial, to say the least, but we had a few minutes to enjoy the islands.
