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RV Parks Suck.

Grab a drink, yeah… I know…it’s Sunday at 10am. Trust me, you’re gonna need it so grab a Bloody Mary and take a seat. I’m going to drop a truth bomb about Full-Time RVing and most of you aren’t going to like it. It’s going to shatter your Instagram #VanLife and #RVLife dreams and leave you in a puddle of angry tears.

One thing I’ve always hated in life was homeowner’s associations. They have so many stupid rules and there is always some busybody nosy ass neighbor that has nothing better to do than to watch everything you’re doing.  That’s RV parks in a nutshell, except your neighbor is so close you can hear them fart.

This site was so tight I kept tripping over the neighbor’s water hose because it was at the bottom of my steps.

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Introducing Oak Island

We have been living in an RV for 402 days. We have been property owners for 21 days.  We’ve been boondocking on our property for 15 of those days.
We’ve also been boondocking more in the last 2 months than we have the entire time we have been on the road.
What’s the nutshell? We moved into an RV, we putted around FL for 2 months and then we went to Maine for almost 6 months. We came back to FL for Christmas, decided to buy 7.36 acres in North FL and then we hauled off to Louisiana for Mardi Gras. We drank, we ate, we caught beads and reveled in all the glory that is New Orleans. We bounced around Alabama and North FL boondocking, harvest hosting and sleeping in brewery parking lots and national forests until we closed on our property. Now we’re here. Oak Island, our new winter homestead.

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A waffler walks into a bar.

A waffler walks into a bar… well, after they research all the local bars and wonder if they made the right decision the whole way there. Thankfully the bar at least has flights so you can choose 5 different beers instead of committing to just one.

You don’t really want to stay, no
But you don’t really want to go-o
You’re hot then you’re cold
You’re yes then you’re no
You’re in then you’re out
You’re up then you’re down.


 

Katy Perry was talking about me.

 
Continue reading “A waffler walks into a bar.”