She Rallies Every Time

This morning I noticed my oldest kitty – at 18-1/2 years – bleeding from her chin. My sister had suggested a vet someone recommended to her, so I looked them up and called. Small-town businesses aren’t big on appointments so they said “come on in!” and they would set me up with a vet when I got there. I piled my old girl into a cart, not the easiest maneuver after doing this a couple of weeks ago when moving here from 220 miles away, driving with 3 cats meowing in sync the entire time, but in she went and off we were.

Driving past pastures, old barns, farmhouses, seeing a skunk, a deer, and some kind of other furry wildass critter crossing my path, it was all country till I entered the intersections where the animal clinic sat on the edge of town, all about 15 miles from home. Pulling up I saw horse trailers lining the parking lot and the sign said “livestock” so I knew this was the place to be. They got almost 5 stars on Google so I felt confident they would take care of my old girl.

They called me in pretty quick as there were only a couple of other people in the waiting area, so we shuffled to our little exam room and waited. After the attendant came, took weight and temperature, then left, I started hearing sounds like mooing. Then more moo’s. I guess people actually bring those livestocks in for their exams, weight-taking, temperature-taking, and the whole gambit. But I can’t imaging ushering in a horse through these doors and down these halls, and into this tiny little room.

Maybe their rooms are bigger.

And my old girl? She’s great. Just feline acne. Yeah. It’s a thing.


The Tiny Piece of Plastic That Sank a Ship

I awoke this morning, rarin’ to get back to the old house to gather more crap, measure for repairs, take photos to show my bro-in-law so he can cut wood and bring all the right tools when we head down to ready up the house, then haul my stuff back home the same day. A good 450 mile turnaround and hours of work ahead of me.

But I heard rainfall. It was about 5:45am and I checked the weather app on my phone before I even got out of bed, kind of thankful for an excuse NOT to drive that trek today. No rain in all of Texas. But I’m still hearing it rather loud and clear, the slapping of rain on surfaces. I went to the kitchen to see if I could hear it there; it was more faint though still pretty clear but when I returned to the bedroom, it was loud. I bent down toward the floor where the duct register was, then leaned in to where it was coming from…

I grabbed a flashlight, pulled on my rainboots and headed out into the darkness.

Walking to the other side of my rig, I bent down and shined the light on a big stream of water coming from the belly of this beast. Pouring. A lot. Incessantly. Rivers of water heading downstream as I sloshed around in the sandy mud.

My RV had sprung an enormous leak. HUGE.
Bigly A.F.
And everything in the carpeted cargo hold, electrical boxes, tank systems, vacuum systems, and all else underneath the rig was SOAKED. Sopping wet. Everywhere.

Tiny plastic thing that ruined everything
How would I have known to even check this? You can see the O-ring pushed out of the slit made by the water pressure.

I immediately turned off the water at the source and ran back in. I texted my bro-in-law what I had seen and asked him to come over at daylight. He, always up early as well, said “Ok” then texted back “be sure to turn off the water” (done)

At first light, he found the problem – it was one tiny piece of plastic, a small cap to a filter that had swelled due to water pressure from the water hose going into the “city” (water) hookup in the RV. The water had obviously pushed the top part of the plastic out so much that it gave way and created a small fissure in its side. And it ruined the belly of the beast, probably depreciating my RV several thousands of dollars in one fell nighttime swoop.

I quickly looked up a few forums with the same basic leak problem, which lead me to an eleven dollar fix. We found an RV parts dealer who knew what to give us, and also bought an inline water pressure regulator (a little more expensive, at around $29), set it in place, finger-tightened it as it instructed, and BAM! Fixed. All too late.

Yeah, so damned easy to solve a problem that could destroy my love for what I’m doing. Daily I consider going back but I cannot – I have got to keep moving forward, keep heading into The Big Dream of a Life that I have created of how I would love for things to be. I’ve come this far, right?

The belly of the RV is still swollen, I am hoping it isn’t filled with water but have no way of releasing it without crawling under the rig. I may call Monte, the fix-it guy – certified RV maintenance dude – who came and “fixed” my jack levels. But a flat fee of $165 wasn’t in my immediate budget, so I’m glad my bro-in-law quickly found the problem.