Decisions and Disasters

Well friends, I teased a property we looked at recently, and today I’m finally ready to tell you more. But first, a funny little story—our first official RV disaster.

We bought a combo washer/dryer for the rig long before we left. I’m linking to it purely for information, I can’t recommend it just yet—the technology still needs a bit of ironing out (pun intended). That said, it’s been a godsend. Yes, there’s a learning curve. Yes, it smells like someone left an iron on a silk blouse. Yes, the clothes come out slightly damp. But it keeps me out of coin-op RV park laundromats, which is worth its weight in gold.

Each load must be tiny—think one towel, six pairs of socks, a tee shirt, and yoga pants. Nothing else. And each load takes about five hours start to finish. The spin cycle rocks the entire rig like we’re at a disco, on a boat, in turbulent seas. Good times.

But I haven’t even gotten to the disaster part yet.

Last night, we went back out to THE property. Right before we left, I started a third load of laundry (which is one more than I usually do in a day) and dashed out the door with the dogs. We spent a couple hours on the land, ran by the local grocery store, and got home about three hours later.

We walked into a bathroom and shower FULL of water.

You see, I forgot about the gray water tanks. Tanks that must be emptied frequently—four showers and one load of laundry, max. It’s gotten close before, but we’ve always caught it in time. Not this time. Detergent-stained water drenched the linoleum floors and began seeping into the (carpeted) bedroom. The load was still cycling—another 30 minutes would’ve been a full-blown flood.

Thankfully, I have several rugs covering the hideous linoleum floors. They soaked up most of the water. Irony of ironies—I’ve now had to run three more cycles (with two in the queue) to wash all the towels I used to clean up the mess. The shower pan is still covered in soaking wet towels. We haven’t been able to clean the laundry-linen residue from the floor, nor have we been able to shower.

Silver Linings: the bathroom floor has never been so clean. Oh, and also, we found THE property.

Have you ever seen a dog this happy?

Our realtor is presenting what we believe is a strong offer tomorrow morning. It’s in the exact location I was hoping for—smack dab between two of the sweetest little towns you’ve ever seen. You know the type: defined town centers with buildings as old (young) as America, rehabbed into coffee shops, boutiques, and trendy restaurants. Vibrant farmers markets every weekend. Frequent art fairs and wine festivals. Decent schools, decent people, and decent bedtimes.

We discovered a third, smaller town nearby that’s just as sweet. There are several large lakes minutes away, a fishing-and-farming culture, and always someone nearby to offer a kind word or helpful arm.

As for THE property—it’s just… magical.

I was sold the minute we saw it. Rob needed a few more minutes to think about utilities, easements, and access. The boring stuff. I was far more concerned with the wild berries covering the sandy loam (yay!) and where we’ll site the house.

I can’t explain why exactly, but the land just feels GOOD. I feel good when we’re there. The dogs have never been happier—running with abandon, sniffing new smells, peeping deer in the woods.

And there are woods. It’s 80% tree-covered with long paths winding through the forest. Large trees pepper the gently rolling terrain—currently in full fall splendor. Red oaks, maples, persimmon, and pecan trees seem taller than the pines. There’s cleared land toward the front—just waiting for the next phase… flowers.

We’ve looked at so many properties, all with fatal flaws. This one has none.

And the best part? It’s 26 acres.

Plenty of land to do ALL the things we dream of—and still have room for the kids to build homes if they choose. I’ve already identified sites for little treehouses where grandchildren can run free for as long as their legs will carry them. I can have sheep and chickens and create a sanctuary for the deer. Rob will have projects for as long as he wants them. And when we’re done, it’s enough land to leave a legacy.

But pictures speak more loudly than words.

And so, we will go to bed dirty, but happy. The dogs still energized from their woodland romp, the rugs still heavy with suds and story. And somewhere between the spin cycle and the sunset, we felt it—that quiet certainty. The land is calling. The dream is unfolding. And tomorrow, we’ll know if it’s ours.

Next Up: Signatures or Sorrows?

Stay tuned, friends. With a little luck, the next chapter may begin with a signature.