Well, aside from almost three weeks in various Motel 6 locations, we spent a month living in our friends MaryJean and Rick's basement apartment. Why? Because one of our slides broke loose and instead of the "few days" we were promised, it took Leale's RV in San Diego from June 6th to July 17th to fix the dang thing. And they still aren't finished. We are currently waiting for a window and they forgot to fix our porch light.
I'm guessing it will be weeks before the window gets here. Since we have places to go, I suspect it will be October before the window gets installed. This has been a nightmare. We had to stay at Motel 6 because they are the only motels in California that will allow three pets AND not charge us $25 per night per pet. Of course, for that boon we got to listen to screaming babies, domestic violence, and every high school soccer player from Arizona yelling in the halls and parking lot. We also got to watch an endless parade of pimps, prostitutes, and johns, not to mention several police officers visiting at all hours of the day and night. Such a life! Oh, and the washing machines were broken thanks to a tweaker who tried to jimmy the coin boxes.
Did I mention the cats?
Zeebie looking content. It's not true though.
The cats, the dog, and Jenny all had diarrhea on the way back. In the Motel 6. Zee and Abby wanted out and tried fanatically to open windows and doors, and to slip by us. Zee, wonder cat that he is, understands the concept of door knobs and is trying to grow an opposable thumb and is working on his upper body strength. I got in the habit of throwing things as soon as I cracked the door to drive the hordes back into the room. Fortunately, the diarrhea slowed them all down just enough to contain them.
Just south of Mt. Shasta City, Zee managed to get the huge dog crate they traveled in open. I turned around just in time to see a front leg, shoulder, and head emerging. Sort of like watching a big plastic and metal cage give birth to a raptor. I was the one doing the pushing, though, as I shoved the door back in place and held it there until Jenny could pull off on that exit that goes nowhere. If you drive down I-5 much, you know the one. NO SERVICES. Nothing. Just a random off ramp. We pulled over and then we had to get the dog in the front seat so I could get in the back seat, all the while being the immovable object against which Zee, the irresistible force, was fighting with all his might. Cats don't get physics. Neither do I but I did get a courtesy C because I was the only person in class who could understand the instructor's thickly-accented English and provided interpretation services. Anyway, physics or not, bungee cords to the rescue. The big, thick, wide, super strong one.
Jenny and I argued over the bungee cords when we were getting ready for this adventure. She didn't think they were necessary. I thought they were essential. I win. She thinks a can of WD-40 and some duct tape will handle everything. Well, I think Zee had some WD-40 to help him get the dang thing open, and I hate to imagine cats all wound up in duct tape. Bumgees to the rescue.