Almost Icarus: My wings begin to melt on the way to the trailer park office

Hello again, dear readers.

Today’s tale is a story much like that of Icarus, whose confidence was so high, he flew on his wax wings to his untimely death.   Me, well, obviously I didn’t die–but I did get awfully close to ruining our mobile home dreams.

Arrogance.  Arrogance is not a quality that I usually use to describe myself.  Insecure, sometimes. Confident, mostly.  But never so confident that I’m arrogant.  Until it comes to applying to live in a trailer park.  Then, I and my confidence fly blissfully near the bright star of arrogance, and my wax wings begin to melt and drip, hurrying me toward ruin.

What does this mean?  It means, I looked over the application to live in this particular trailer park, and I knew that I would pass with flying colors (drippy, waxy, crayon colors?), and I figured (here’s where I put on my wings of arrogance) that no one else would want to live in this trailer, so I took my sweet time turning the thing in.  I assumed that everything would turn out alright because I was so good (too good to live in a trailer park?) that I almost didn’t even need to apply!  (Oh!  The sun is so bright up here!)

Then, CF’s mom informed me that the trailer park office works on a “first-come/first-get” system.  The first person to turn in an application for the lot (our dear lot 26!) would be the person to get it (as long as they passed the background check).  Nevermind that we had been talking with the woman at the office about my intent to purchase the trailer and rent the lot.

As it so happened, I was aware of another couple who had been interested in buying the trailer.  As soon as they could find a buyer for their own trailer, they were going to buy the one on Lot 26.  Suddenly, I didn’t feel so confident.  And being that it was a weekday and I was at work 40 miles from the trailer park office, I began to feel downright panicked.

I ended up skipping out on my office hours (which I of course made up) to meet CF’s mother (she’s a saint!) at a halfway point to give her the application to turn in for me before the office closed that day.  She got it there in time (bless her!), and all was well again.  Except, of course, the stupidity I felt for acting like such a jack-@$$.

And so the stigma I apparently still feel, that idea that I am “above” living in a trailer park, rose again– and nearly took away the opportunity to live there.  Which, I discovered, is something I really really want.  Go figure.


About Cathy G Gilbert

I am veggie-loving, community college professor who lives, teaches, and writes in Central IL.
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