Home About The Autens MOVING! Deeply Wounded, Fooled & Ruined

MOVING! Deeply Wounded, Fooled & Ruined

written by Christine Auten September 25, 2016

What kind of lunatic gets rid of a house and lives in, essentially, a car?


We have been rich, poor, healthy and sick. In twenty years we have endured many hardships, setbacks and crisis. But nothing, fucking NOTHING, prepared us for our move when we exited the real world and entered the abbreviated world of full-time RV life.

We had moved at least four or five times before, mostly to improve our lot in life: jobs, income and investment. When you move to accommodate normal human objectives, the obstacles appear to be rational and beneficial. You defend crime-free zip-code or a well-regarded school district. But when your “move” serves the objectives of RV life, all “real-world” goals seem irrational and maybe even juvenile! Certainly irrational! What kind of lunatic gets rid of a house and lives in, essentially, a car?


We’re not packing. We’re loading out.


We had it ALL figured out. We knew that we would NOT be moving in to a new, regular “sticks n bricks” house. We knew that in our new reality we would be living in a much smaller space. We planned and plotted what we would do with everything we owned. We sorted our belongings into plies – trash, give away, sell, store, take with us. We went through an obscene number of Bagsters, shopped for storage spaces in Austin (settling on a 10×10 climate controlled space out by the airport,) and priced items for our epic garage sale. Honestly, we really thought this would be easy. Sell a few things, store a few things, give away a few things, and throw the rest away. How hard?

Well, kids, the house sold rather quickly. The garage sale passed. The Bagsters were taken away – we will never admit to how many. We gave countless things away to friends and strangers. Yet, days away from closing we still had a house full of stuff and 100-degree weather wearing down our will, energy and resolve.

Xstine was still sorting through our remaining belongings when I came home from delivering a load to our storage space with two gas-station hot-dog, some Gatorade, and a revelation: “We’re not packing. We’re loading out.”


At one hour before the closing on our house we drove our haphazardly packed, and severely overloaded new home to a prearranged “stop-over” RV park a few miles away.

 


With only hours before someone else took possession of our house, we gathered up boxes and boxes of the last of our possessions and literally threw them in to our tiny motorhome. We took what was left of our remaining possessions to the curb with the hope that neighborhood passersby might find value in what we left behind.

At one hour before the closing on our house we drove our haphazardly packed, and severely overloaded new home to a prearranged “stop-over” RV park a few miles away. Once there and checked in, we raced our little Honda over to the title company to be finally shed of our “sticks-and-bricks” life.

Sad coda to this story: a week later we were finishing up our laundry at a laundromat in our old neighborhood and decided to drive by our old house. On the side driveway (where we use to park our RV) was piled at least a truckload of trash that we had left behind – trash now, but formerly things we thought we cared about.

 

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