It's been proposed that this trailer I'm surviving in, be fixed up and moved to a nearby mobile home park. A retirement community of like aged and like minded people, where I can spend my remaining life. If I needed to go to a doctor, I would have a ride.
All of the things wrong with this lop-sided little trailer would be fixed. Running water, a toilet, a stove to cook on. What an exciting thought!
Or Riley could buy me a new one and I take over $300 a month payments. Along with the Mobile Park rental fee, I'd be back up in the $900 a month range, which would leave me $500 and change of my SS to live out my monthly days.
Out of peoples hair, tucked away safely in pricey Pensacola until I die. Then the trailer can be sold, my body burned up and scattered somewhere, and OldManJim will no longer be something to deal with, but just a memory.
You know what? I've put all this energy lately into sobriety, fitness, and reliability that folks around me tend to ignore, and think that it's just a fad. That I will eventually fall back to being a loser, because that's just who I am.
If I had transportation, I would be gone. A vehicle I could live out of as I travel Florida, with my Florida DL and Florida health insurance. Drive and thrive until I find a place to land. Strap my trike on the back and live off my SS. Become a real man again without anyone bitching at me, living my life as I need, until I just become a memory.
I took this shot back when I had my truck. God I miss traveling, being disrespectful to nobody but myself, and loving it.
Now I love nothing but four dogs, four chickens, and myself. Barely.
I had the day off today, so I wrote some great code with help from the Copilot and Gemini AI's.
Navigating Windows 11 and it's many system services is complicated, so I've created a new app that explains the processes, with options and copy features.
Click the image below to run it!
Three days away from turning 79, and this is where I live. It ain't the greatest, but it's my place. Well, not really, it belongs to Dan's parents and I rent it, and it sits on his property.
Life could be worse, I could be under a bridge or in a fucking nursing home, so I'm grateful. I have no bathroom, so that spot next to the spare is where I pee. The fence behind me is where I dump my morning bottle and the faucet I rinse it and my dishes out is across the driveway to the right.
I just took this shot after my morning ritual of letting the chickens out of their coup. I love those four, watched them grow up and I know they like me. I hand feed them treats later in the morning.
There's also four dogs in the house that I love. I think these are the things that keep me going.
I workout inside the trailer and drive my trike to the pool job. I feed myself in this trailer, I write Posts, watch TV and sleep in there.
I'm clean and sober, have been for some time now. I ask nothing more from life, and I do my best to not interfere with anyone elses life. Unless they're not wearing a wristband at the pool.
This is my place, until it isn't.
Copilot and I were discussing my life routine this morning, and the AI highly approves. Then he whipped up a new logo.
It was a tough day at the pool. It started early when a small group took over the main shaded spot. None were wearing wristbands and they claimed they were just checking in and would grab them from their rooms shortly. They were middle aged and looked the type that loves this place, as opposed to pool crashers, so I said I would check back later.
Within the next two hours the crowd had grown to more than thirty, one told me later they were part of a group and were arriving from all over the country. Half of them had the courtesy to abide by the rules and were wearing the wristbands from their rooms, the other half didn't.
They were in the pool, with young kids, talking loudly under the palm leaves, ordering food and drinks from the Tiki, and I lost control.
Initially they started in their corner, but soon spread across the pool. It's really hard to approach others about missing wristbands when half the pool don't have them.
So I did something different today. I made a point of approaching everyone that was not part of that group and thanking them for having the courtesy to wear their wristbands to the pool. They all knew why, and appreciated it.
Then I started working on the group, making a strong point of thanking each one of them that wore a wristband. I ignored those that weren't, wouldn't even make eye contact. I could hear them mumbling around me, embarrassed, and saying wristbands?
Here was the group at an early stage, picture it way more than doubled. Oh, and the guy falling out of his shorts brought his boyfriend, and there was a frail old lady with a walker, who ended up in the pool.
These guys were the worst, but I bet they wear their wristbands tomorrow.
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