Two things that need shootin’: Varmints in your RV, and Stalkers
It’s been a week of things that need shootin’. (Note the dropped “g” – I’m already starting to sound like a Texan. Just know it happens very fast, people, very fast.)
(A note for my new readers: Last summer I bought my first RV and immediately became a full-timer. I’m single, and drive a mid-size Class A. I travel with my cat, Checkers – the copilot who can’t read maps, and a rare house guest/visitor. I’ve learned I’m a bit of a Glamper – I don’t like to sacrifice the little niceties to live the nomadic lifestyle. If this paragraph hasn’t bored you to tears and you want to know more, you can learn about my travels here, me here, and get zombie t-shirts and stuff here. What? Everyone needs zombie stuff.)
And now back to our regularly scheduled programming…
The varmint inside my RV…
Thump – thump – thump. (silence) Thump – thump – thump. (silence)
All night long it went, coming from somewhere under my rig, but within the chassis or walls.
The loudness of the thumps indicated it was probably a squirrel. It seemed to pull on something (such as my wiring!) and as its body jerked back with the motion, it would hit the wall behind it.
I didn’t find where it was getting in, but I did manage to get rid of the little monster for the rest of the night and finally get back to sleep.
As soon as it was late enough the following morning so as not to piss off my neighbors, I turned on the generator, started the engine and let both run for 30 minutes while I pulled the slides in and the jacks up. Then I covered the area beneath my rig with mothballs, and got an ultrasonic pest control device. So far, so good.
But I’ve learned my copilot who can’t read maps, isn’t much of a pest deterrent, either. *sigh*
The varmint outside my RV…
As a single female with long blond hair (which is both my superpower and my Kryptonite), I occasionally attract the unwanted attentions from some male with a complete lack of propriety, shame, and appropriate boundaries.
As the “fresh meat” in this new small town, it didn’t take long for one such loser to appear…. on my doorstep, no less. Twice! (No, I NEVER gave him my address, nor an invitation.)
The loser/NBD: A mere acquaintance I met in group of other folks, many of whom were snowbirds. He will now be referred to as No Boundaries Dude.
My mistake: Saying “Hi”. Seriously, sometimes that’s all the encouragement a would-be stalker needs. But here’s where I goofed up: We were all standing around making small talk about where we’re from, and what we do. I, unwittingly, said where I worked. As a work camper, this is also where I live.
No Boundaries Dude: About two weeks later he called the office where I work/live and boldly asked for my phone number and lot number. !!! When he was told they can’t give that info out, he drove to the park and asked the gate “security”. They are apparently totally useless for security as they were more than happy to give him a map with my lot circled on it!!
(Insert your own cuss words here.)
After his second unannounced visit in two days, I called him (he left notes with his number). I made it abundantly clear it was not cool to come by, and then I told him I was in a relationship.
My long-time readers know the last part isn’t entirely true, but I was referring to my relationship with my Smith & Wesson.
*sound of a gun being loaded and cocked*
While there are both good and bad things about being single, having to shoot the stalkers yourself is one of the things I don’t like about being single.
Should NBD dare to appear again, he will get to meet my “significant other” just like the wannabe car thief did a few months ago.