My already confusing life as a child was an enigma wrapped in aluminum,tires and the occasional vinyl siding. I began to associate everything with wheels.
My goal always was to get ahead in life. The only connecting factor going for me in life was mobile homes. My brain made that connection.
Living in a mobile home park had its upsides. Once, when we were cutting the grass, we found three cars.
My first step in that direction was to switch my choice of ketchup. It seemed right at the time and I was desperate.
My tenants are my pride and joy. For once in my life, I am in control. They have to like me, unlike my friends, who don't. Sadly, some of my closest friends treat me like a glass vase. They initially put nice, beautiful flowers inside of me to make me like them. Then, they break me, give up on me and go home. I am then left broken and confused, relying on people who owe me money to pick me up and put me back together.
I have heard EVERY excuse in the book about late rent.
Sometimes I get this feeling that I am being pulled down in life, yet at other times it feels more like I am being pushed or more specifically, shoved. It is a "dog eat dog world out there" and no matter what I own or who I am friends with, I am wearing milkbone cologne and the dogs are always out.
Ironically, I have given free rent and cleaned my tenants homes free of charge when I see them struggling financially or physically. I am not one of those "slum lords." Life is too short for that. My bills get paid. At the end of the day, I get to live with myself.
I am trailer folk. Mobile homes run through my veins. I am not one of those people who is "trailerly challenged." I know the mobile home park life and I make the best of it as a professional trailer park owner.
Sometimes my male tenants think I want to date them. My favorite pickup line ever was when some guy told me I had "nice teeth."