I started to work at the Capitol Grill here at Cherry Hill Park. Almost thirty hours a week, which was understandable because the true "camping" season of this area begins, like in so many areas of the United States, Memorial Weekend. It's the unofficial kick off weekend to the summer months. I'm grateful to slowly ease into the job, so being flexible, I dove in. I also established a new routine, challenging myself to write five hundred or more words a day. This is a difficult task, especially for me, who loves to procrastinate. I've been doing well with this goal and Part V of the Vasectomus Collection is going extremely well. (interested in supporting this collection, click link to buy the first four books, they're CHEAP! https://www.amazon.com/Vasectomus-Trilogy-Tim-Eagle/dp/B09LGRPVHC (Books 1-3) and here:
As I slipped into the routine of working and writing, getting comfy, a leak seeped out from underneath the kitchen sink, and rolled out to the wood floors. I, with my six foot five, overtly giant size, squeezed my girth into the small cabinet (think marshmallow into a piggy bank, a throwback quote from the late Tony Delor). I unscrewed some panels and identified that the leak was coming from what RV'ers know as a "spa" drain. This is a drain that has some flex in it and moves as the slide of our kitchen moves in and out, it is attached to the kitchen drain. The white tube was leaking at the bottom. I called a local, recommended company to come out and take a look at it, leaving everything disassembled for their peep hole convenience. The techs decided to not fix it on site, and asked if I could bring the Mothership in for repair.
Now, you have to remember, we're in an urban area, and driving large motorhomes through the streets is unnerving, to say the least. I agreed to bringing it into the shop. An anticipated, anxiety ridden week of us doing dishes in the bathroom sink, and removing my shades form the front window, tire covers, and a trial run without the motorhome to the shop, we prepared.
The day of, I unhooked everything. Secured Walter White in her domain (the back, where all her home goods are located), loaded Cocoa in the car with Maria, and I started the Mothership. A few tiny roads zig-zagging through neighborhoods, zooming in and around traffic circles and pulling into a tight industrial area, we arrived at seven a.m.
I gave the owner my keys, filled out some paper work, and we drove off into the rising sun to get some breakfast, while our home was sitting in the front of a building in a strange land.
Hours later, around one p.m., we were staking out the business (feeling like P.I.'s from a distance analyzing what was happening) from a nearby parking lot. They called. We were shocked at the low price, just over three hundred dollars (you tend to expect the worst and a high price when getting something repaired, naturally it goes with the territory), I paid up and we drove back to Cherry Hill.
So, many of you wonder, just how it's done when you're home is on six wheels. This is how. When I can't fix something, we have no choice sometimes but to drive our house, and drop it off. Now that the leak is fixed, I desperately jumped back into writing, to ease my mind of any stress that popped up. Oh, wait a minute, this just in, the Capitol Grill is short handed, shit, I'm out of time today... tune in next week to find out just how a work camping job can alter any approach of routines, in the blink of any eye...
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Sincerely,
Tim Eagle
Tim Eagle is an author of the novellas Stolen Seed, Life Ship, and the Vasectomus Collection. He lives full time, on the road, with his wife, Maria and their dog, Cocoa. He grew up in Michigan and is inspired by the dysfunction, insanity, and nepotism of rural America. His books are available on Amazon, godless and this site timeaglefiction.com Thanks for reading, tune in next week for more...
