Currently, I reside with my husband and some lady bugs in a 29 foot travel trailer. We moved into it in mid-September, thinking it would only be for a couple months while we finish construction. And then it rained, and it rained. About the time it was dry enough to work, it rained some more. It has rained A LOT in the last year. So, between weather, and the end of daylight savings time, and work schedules, construction hasn’t gone nearly as quickly as we’d planned. We’ve learned a valuable lesson. God is in control, we are not. Everybody knows that. Yet, we always try to control things anyway. I don’t think we’re alone in that.
Living in a travel trailer that has something else go wrong with it weekly, and being in that situation for 7 months gets old. Add pregnancy into the mix, and I think you can imagine the escalation. I’ve always said that home was wherever my husband was. And, by always, I mean for the last 2 years and 9 months. Well, I might have to alter my definition of home a little bit. Home is where my husband is…as long as it’s not that god-forsaken camper. We moved from an 1152 square foot apartment, into a 29 ft travel trailer, with the intentions of building a small building/apartment (of our own) to live in while we finish paying off student loans and then building a house. It would be small, but it would be ours, and it would be temporary. Let me tell you, 600 sq ft has never sounded so good.