A Box of Checks

I had put it off as long as I could, but yesterday I finally broke down and went to the bank to order a new box of checks. Now, why would this be something I would put off, you might think? The fact of the matter is, I knew we would need to change our address from our old house in Orlando to our new location, a campground in Largo. I felt that putting our new address on our checks would make it official...we are now - TRAILER TRASH.

Never mind that we still OWN the house in Orlando and are trying to sell it in a terrible economy. Never mind that we have 80 acres in Monroe County, AL, to use when we retire. Never mind that we have saved throughout our careers to have adequate retirement funds in our IRAs and pension plans. Our official address is now a campground, and that kinda smarts.

However, when I look around at the rest of the "trailer trash", I see an awful lot of nice people. On one side of us is a lady in a modest camper with her cat; she's working in Clearwater while her husband holds down the fort at their home in the Carolinas. On the other side of us is a family with a son who homeschools; they moved from a large home to a camper here because the husband had been spending hours commuting to his job in St. Pete. Next to them is a very nice lady who's a retired guidance counselor and psychologist. She has a young Cavalier the same color as ours; she offers frequently to have our dog come visit for play dates. Behind us is an elderly widow with a shy Chihuahua; we occasionally chat while we're out dog-walking.

So, all in all, it's not so bad, and (hopefully) a temporary thing :o)