Panic sets in.

I am out of my RV space as of tomorrow. I have the RV all packed up, some gas in the tank, and have it free from its shackles. But it's not that easy. What's next is terrifying and logistically intensive. For the first time, I think I may have pushed the limits a little too far.

I suppose part of my worry about this situation stems from the fact that I am also in finals right now. I am also maxed out on energy and number of minutes in a day.

I have places I can take the RV to park it -- friends houses or even public land, but there's still snow on the ground here. Nights are still getting down in the low 30's. Without electricity, other than what my generator can provide (using gasoline), I'm basically in a really large, heavy tent.

While I think I would be fine with this in the Summer, I still have obligations at school, so the uncertainty this introduces into my daily routines is really difficult to work with.

I have no problem living minimally for a while, but this is becoming a major lesson in truly appreciating the infrastructure that makes our lives easier and better. Also, the idea of having a true 'home base.' I set out on this experiment wondering how this would all work out and how important the home base really is, but right now I'm really feeling it.

Since I'm a little overwhelmed right now, part of me wants to sell the 'bago and just become a normal person, paying rent and living in a house. My time in the RV has actually been great -- little different than living in a tiny house. But unhook all the utilities, including water, sewer, and electricity, and suddenly, the wold looks much different.

Hopefully my misgivings pass once finals are over. This is just the wrong time to be continuing to invent a wheel that first-world humans abandoned quite some time ago -- perhaps the foundation house with a landlord really is the way to go? I guess time will tell. I intend to stick it out for at least another year.

Leaving Spacedock

After almost nine months parked in the great, white, frozen north, I am pulling my utilities to roam. While I won't be touring national parks or living the grand life on the road, I won't be paying rent.

The plan is more of an experiment to see what it will entail to spend the summer free of a landlord. The benefit will likely be modest amounts of money saved and different views every 14-21 days or so, but it will certainly come with some pitfalls. First, I won't have a a constant source of electricity. That's a big problem. Second, I water will come from a tank, not a spigot. Last, I'll be paying for gas from location to location.

What's worse, living slightly closer to native or chained to a landlord? I don't know? I can guess, but the goal here is to find out. We'll see how long it lasts.

I'm hoping that my biggest problems this summer will be, "Where'd I park my house, again?" I'll be updating my findings as regularly as possible.

I am the 0.4%

I just stumbled on an article that said that 1.3 million Americans are full-time RV'ers. While I'm not really an "RV'er" per say, I do live in an RV full-time. With ~314 million people in the U.S., that means I'm part of the 0.4% of the population living in an RV full-time, either by choice or necessity.

The difference between me and the likely majority that comprise the statistic is that I'm probably about half of the age of most "RV'ers." I'm also not using my RV for "Recreation" -- I'm not spending my days in national parks or living on a pension. I'm parked in a shitty dirt lot behind the office building of the trailer park I'm currently living in. I've been at that location since August and I'll likely only be there until April 30th.

So, as inglorious as it might sound, living in an RV behind an office building for 8-9 months a year, the fact that it's only for that duration is actually quite glorious. Though, that's really the saving grace --- the fact that I get to move my RV a couple times a year for a job somewhere... else.

So, while the 0.4% of the country who are living in RV's year-around probably aren't doing it the way I am, I suppose I'm now part of a strange club of nomads -- a tiny minority of American citizens. Instead of being chained to a landlord or a mortgage company, I'm chained to school and then the fear of utter poverty when school is out. It seems freer, at least for the moment.

No Rent... REALLY?

So, school's out in a few weeks. I'm pulling anchor on April 30th, no matter what. Why? Because I'd rather spend the money that I would pay for "lot rent" on gas to get to somewhere cool. Not that where I'm at isn't cool, but it sure would be great to just go live somewhere else because I can. Why would I live in a high-plains town over the summer when I could live in the mountains and take some shitty job, but step out my front door and be on a motorcycle trail? Or a pack trail? It kind of doesn't make any sense to stay where I am, in part because opportunities are limited and because I don't want to have to cool my house over the summer. It seems that this RV lifestyle is wasted on the old --- I'm having a hard time comprehending the fact that my house can be anywhere I can afford to drive to and then I can come back without any ties in lease or mortgage. It's kind of crazy.

A presentation on the homeless

There was a presentation in my department today about a graduate student's project on the homeless. It got me thinking about what "homeless" is and how we define what homelessness is. By many people's definitions, I'm "homeless." I pay rent as needed, I don't live in a house with a foundation, and my house has wheels and an engine. I have a roof over my head, but no real reason, other than the price of gas, to not roam. Am I homeless?

I realized while thinking about this that I'm the least homeless person I know, despite the fact that many people would classify me as such. The reason I came to this conclusion is that I own the roof over my head outright. Nobody can take away my house because I'm not paying rent -- if I don't want to pay rent, or can't, I unplug my utilities and wait until I can afford rent. I don't have a lease and my mortgage is no longer the roof over my head...

So, who's homeless? I don't think it's me. As I see it, I'm not homeless for more reasons than just owning the roof directly over my head. I also realized that I would actually be willing to camp year-around. My tents are homes in themselves. It seems that I'm realizing that I have a functional view of the world and have broken down the barriers of what "home" is and what it is to be "homeless."

In a nutshell, what I've learned is that the definition of homeless is narrow and kind of ridiculous. Why would I be considered homeless when my living situation involves so little risk from being lost to wealthy bankers or landlords? By definitions, even of academics studying the issue, I am homeless... and I disagree.

Cats in a Van

Having cats in an RV year around seems nuts. It is. But the more I revisit the insanity of my decision to live in an RV with cats, the more I realize just how well my toilet training worked. Having cats that use the human toilet instead of a litter box, and use it reliably 99.5% of the time, has been the only possible way to have these critters. No stench, no litter, no problem. The cats seem to like it because their toilet is always clean. Since they don't come in contact with their bio-matter anymore, their paws and coats have also cleaned up. Vomiting is down to maybe once every month and a half. It has been a colossal experiment, but one that I can safely say is a total success. It has been so nice to just flush the toilet and not have to deal with stinky shit in the open air. Once it's in water, it's a far less stinky ordeal. I was concerned that the whole house would stink of their stuff when I first started this, due to the small volume of the interior, but it just hasn't been the case. It's like having a couple of toilet trained house elves, rather than litter-box using cats. Pretty crazy.

Winter in an RV? Ha!

Only a couple days to go until it's officially Spring. I think I'll take an early victory lap. I realized the other day that I've officially made it through Winter in an RV at 7,200 feet. Wind... cold... snow... whatever. It's an especially strange thing because there were foundation houses with pipes freezing, even University buildings with frozen pipes in the town. Then there I was in my house on wheels and didn't have a single day of frozen pipes. I guess all that winterizing work I did was a total win.

The skirt didn't pop a single snap, the water line never froze, and the sewer compartment stayed near the freezing point on the COLDEST nights thrown at me. All in all, I'd say it was a near total success.

However, I have learned a couple things about living in an RV during Winter. The first is that you have to be prepared to not always be toasty warm -- I knew this, but it's definitely a reality. The second is that the windows are where most energy will be lost. Last, humidity is a problem during Winter because you can't easily vent it. It will freeze around the metal window and door frames on the coldest days.

For next year, I'll be installing a heater in the water compartment in fear of the next winter being worse than this one. I may also install a second backup heater in the sewer compartment for the same reason. It would also be nice to find a way to insulate the skirt, so I can achieve even better energy efficiency. I will also be insulating all of the windows for next year to make it more energy efficient.

How was living in the RV in winter? Well, it was exactly what I thought it would be -- Cozy, cool, but totally livable. Days when the sun was shining, even if it was 10 degrees outside, the interior would hold above 60 degrees during the day. As I predicted, the temperature gradient in the beast was definitely extreme with cold temps near the windows and warm temps in the middle of the room, but that's totally liveable. It was like living in a tiny house or apartment, but with the knowledge that I can unplug and go away any time I'm ready. That's a great feeling.