cold feet

cold feet

It’s raining outside the cottage this chilly evening. Pugsly does not like rain, so instead of using the doggie door, when I got home from an errand, there was a little smelly surprise at my feet just inside the front door.

My second thought is, “Inclement weather is going to be rough on the road with the dogs.”

Pugsly is now about 13 years old, and with the herniated disc in her lower back, signals from her brain to her hindquarters are sketchy, especially to her rear left leg, which often doesn’t quite make it all the way to the floor causing her to stumble. This also means that she isn’t able to hold her bathroom needs in quite as well as when she was younger. I worry that it will get worse. Will I get her diapers? Perhaps I should bring some on the road as a just in case.

I spent a month in the camper with the dogs in October, and there were some mishaps, but nothing insurmountable. I’m sure that anything that happens I can deal with as needed. And I’ve plenty places to land. The problems begin in my head when I start thinking about the post-cottage, post-job time that starts in just a couple of weeks and the uncomfortable untethered feeling creeps in.
“Is this totally stupid?”
“I had a career, am I really hurting my future?” (did I want that future?)
“You really want to live in that teeny space for an extended period of time?”
“What do I do with all this stuff?”
“$70 a month for a storage unit full of stuff for an unknown future. That’s stupid. Just take the family furniture and make a beeline for Illinois and then start the trip. But… I don’t wanna. I’ll come back for it. But $70 a month for a storage unit full of stuff….”


I go around like this, less than I was before I made the decision to jump, so there is that. I know that the daily little stressors here displace into future stress thoughts and the trick is to out-maneuver them. It isn’t always easy to do that.

The thing is, I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. We’ve done this already.
It’s not a big deal.
The anticipation is always the hurdle.

2 thoughts on “cold feet

  1. So glad I can get to your site again. I have been reading this ladies adventures as a newbee RV dweller.
    Here she lists some of her struggles. As I read it I compared it to my daily monotony and realized that these challenges add jest to life and shouldn’t be feared. I know you will do great on the road, and you have been careful about planning for re-entry if needed. Don’t stress about the $70 storage. Get on the road for a few months and reevaluate later. Of course you are having all these thoughts, but just realize that very little in life is truly irreversible. Your life may never be the same, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t be light-years better.

    1. Thanks so much, Brenda!

      She has some sage advice there, “Living and working in an RV isn’t easy. Your rig will break, your maps will mislead you, your technology will fail and your best laid plans will go awry. It’s all part of the experience. But if you can roll with the punches, think on your feet and stay open to the possibilities, you’ll find that you end up in some of the most amazing places…. And exactly where you are meant to be.”

      Yesterday was rainy and chilly so I couldn’t get much done in the garage, and I was thinking about how nice it is to sit in the camper on a rainy evening.

      It is true that “very little in life is truly irreversible” and that’s something I often forget. It’s so easy to get tunnel-vision and feel that were you are is all that exists.

      Thank you!

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