Post- accident, I regrouped, licked my wounds, and got through the holidays. In the Spring I turned my trailer over to John, my contractor. I am not on an aggressive time line, so we agreed that he can work on it as he wishes, aiming to be done in the Fall time frame. Or as we say in Texas- Outdoor Living Time!
John wrapped up a job he was already working on. And then, BOOM. He texts me the above picture.
He's a smart guy and all, but, WHOA!! You gotta warn people!!! I was driving when the picture flashed on my screen. I almost ran off the damn road.
I, in fact, literally, did pull over. I felt like I needed a paper bag to hyperventilate into.
The weird thing is how ALIKE these things all look when they are gutted. I mean, unrecognizable and... depressing. Like a wrecked, burned-out airplane fuselage.
My vision for the renovation is what I call a total, but practical renovation. I want it to look so similar to when I started, that a casual glance would not make you think I'd done anything. On closer look, I want the details to be crisp and clean, no rot or wonkiness. I LOVE campy trailers- bring on the Elvis, flamingos, screaming hot pink- I'll squeal in delight, and take you up on your drink with an umbrella. But for my own trailer, I want retro modern chic. Elegant with a nod to mid-century. Orly Kiely modern against a backdrop of beautiful beechwood, aluminum, organic and safe materials.
I knew this moment- the Tear Down, the Phoenix in a Pile of Ashes, name your metaphor- would be hard. And, in fact I underestimated how hard. My knees went jelly and my stomach was decidedly queasy. Sucka PUNCH. Remember: unlike people who are handy and capable and know they can put shit back together- I am a helpless, newborn kitten, mewing pitifully. My only tool/ weapon is MONEY- and NOT an over abundance of it- to Make This Right. Jesus. I better not run out before we have a workable stopping point.
In time, (meaning a few DAYS, not hours, mind you), I righted myself. It had to happen. This is why I wrung hands, why it really is not possible to do one little thing at a time. I needed to get into the walls, get to the rotting insulation, get to the old wiring. Crack it open. Sometimes the only way in is through the fire. Money is just money... I'll make more, Find A Way.
But, I'm still pretty wobbly some days, when I look at these pictures or try to make expensive decisions. It's going to be hard until I see the wood back in, the form taking shape and the genie back in the bottle.
And, um, see that the money is gonna stretch. Might need to canvas friends and do a band fundraiser/ garage sale/ kickstarter/ begging-with-signs under the bridge before its all over. Trailer dreams ain't cheap, ya'll. For not the first time, I bow before people who do this purely for recreation, without the history invested like I have.
This is *nowhere* near the low of the wreck, but this is stressful, tbh. So many hopes, so much desire to have the project work out, and so little actual control over the work.
We'll hold hands together, ok? And, yeah, pass the paper bag, and Tums, k?