This is the inside of my tent, and that is my cot. In other words, this mess is mine. You have seen hooch pics before, but I have moved three times since then. I moved from my first cot to one across from it when the bucket lady moved out, and then my name popped up on the waiting list and I got a trailer. That was a wonderful day for me until I actually saw the trailer. It is as far away from everything as you can get. That isn’t so bad, but what IS bad is that it is three football fields from the ladies’ head (toilet). I have to use a port-a-potty for emergencies. And that would be tolerable except that the wireless internet doesn’t work that far away from civilization, so I can’t chat with David or Mom from there, so that is a TOTAL NO-GO. The internet is my link to all that is important to me, and without it I am a wreck. Depression started setting in within minutes of moving my junk in to the trailer. That first night, I didn’t sleep a wink. After having spent two months in a sleeping bag in a cot, I couldn’t get used to covers and a real bed. My sheets and comforter kept falling to the floor, and I kept thinking I was suffocating because of how hot my roommate liked to crank the heater. (She’s cool, but I couldn’t get used to the climate control.) I finally slept better after a few nights, but I was still becoming more and more depressed. I couldn’t have good chats with my boyfriend, I was separated from my girls, and I couldn’t bear the loneliness.

Inevitably, as soon as I returned from leave, I packed up my trash and moved right back into the tents. Reunited with my sorority sisters, I finally felt happy…like I was home again.

YOU SIMPLY MUST READ MY FRIEND MAUREEN’S BLOG,"TENT 27 SORORITY SISTERS", TO UNDERSTAND THE BOND THE FOUR OF US GALS HAVE. (Shannon has a trailer, too, but she likes the tent better…)