Living in an RV is a daily adventure. I mean, it is never boring. But the most interesting twist to the entire story is that I'm the only female living on property. And, 90% of the time, I'm the only female working on property.
That provides interesting dynamics for sure. Recently, I've collected a couple of observations to make my point:
(disclaimer: Observations are made in a tongue-in-cheek fashion. In addition, I absolutely ADORE my job, and the views expressed are that of my own and are in no way connected to my place of employment or housing provider. thank-you.)
When we do fun things with the guys (Halloween parties, Super Bowl parties, etc), my idea of a fun night is slightly different. While Ben plans scary movies, pizza and nachos, I envision the cutest scary cupcakes. Or, while Ben plans nachos, wings and yelling at the TV as the quarterback make another incredible pass, I dream of fun football cake pops. Therein lies the dilemma. There have been so many times, the other staff members (including my husband) have had to remind me that the guys are teenage boys. They don't want to have a Decorate Cupcake Party. This is not kindergarten. It.Breaks.My.Heart.
The other challenge is bathrooms. (I know I've been talking about using the restroom a lot lately...) My office is in the middle of Christmas trees, but the bathroom is being remodeled and therefore unavailable. That isn't a problem for the males on property - they go hide over the hill to "mark their spot". Usually, I'll run to the RV, except last week. When I was in the back office for 1.5 hours as an interview took place in the front office. It didn't take long to realize: I had to go. There was no way out, and I wasn't about to interrupt an interview. So, I did what any person would do: I climbed out the window. I had interns and students wide-eyed, scared and amazed. But when you gotta go, you gotta go, ya know?
I could go on about being banned from the attic ("you could get hurt!"), or never being allowed to wash my coffee mug at the house (boys:"No, no, no, Bethany! Allow ME to wash your mug")...And, I could state my case like Rosie the Riveter, but really? Why would I do that?
The way I see it: as long as I'm being pampered and I can bake cupcakes, I'm not going to complain.