AKA: Undressing Petunia, Part 3

The worst, most fearful words I ever heard in the restoration of Petunia (besides: “wood rot”) were this:

60% chance of rain.

Oh jeez. I live in the Portland, Oregon area. Who knew there would be rain? Duh.

Alas. Petunia needed shelter from the coming storm.

Sunny days and a naked Petunia. I marked the insulation alphabetically to help me calculate measurements for replacement lumber and new insulation.

Fortunately, I had a tarp waiting in the wings for just such a day. The day was actually a night, however, and came much sooner than I expected. And this tarp was no flimsy make-due. This baby measured a sturdy 40 feet by 20 feet and was folded up as neat and tidy as a fresh diaper.

Game on!

The thing is…

I was trying to put this huge tarp over Petunia by myself in the dark. You don’t need to tell me. I’m an idiot. But wait. It gets worse.

Much worse.

Stone cold sober, I decided I need get on top of the roof to get this tarp in place. The big trouble with that idea: I’d already taken off the aluminum skin. So I was crawling around on the roof beams—2x2s that extend the width the the roof, supported by, well, a few nails and some rotting edge-wood.

I did mention “wood rot” earlier, right?

Q: How long to do suppose it took me to fall through the roof?

A: Not long.

Take it from me: Don’t crawl around on top of the roof after the skin has been removed. You’ll go right through.

I did not “go quietly into that good night.” No. My caterwauling brought the neighbors a-runnin’. The noise echoed for blocks.

Let me quickly add that I didn’t get hurt. Luckily. Just a few scrapes and bruises and a small anxiety attack.

This was however, the low point in the restoration of my beautiful, baffling Petunia.

The following morning I was laying in bed listening the the rain pour outside the window, calculating the water damage being soaked into Petunia’s bones. Ouch.

The good news, besides coming out of this ruckus relatively unscathed: The sun came out the very next day and dried up all the rain. I needed to replace much of what was broken or damaged anyway. So I decided to chalk this up to experience and move forward.

Why dwell on the negative.

But this got me thinking about storms, shelter and our inescapable need for comfort in tumultuous times. (We’re certainly seeing PLENTY of tumult and upheaval these days.)

If you’re traveling, living in, or sheltering in place inside an RV (or any structure for that matter), the first thing you want is a perfectly sealed enclosure. The next most important thing: insulation.

This fluffy layer of love helps keep you warm in the winter and cool in the summer.

Whoever tucked-and-rolled in the insulation into Petunia was a bit willy-nilly about it. On Petunia’s sides, the fluffy side faces in, with the silver backing facing outward (see top photo). On her rear end, by contrast, the fluffy side faces out.

She looks a bit like she has her underwear on inside out.

Compared to the silver-side-out insulation on the sides of the trailer, Petunia’s rear “undies” seem to be on inside out.

But it turns out that it doesn’t matter. The important thing is to be sheltered, tucked in and protected from the elements. For Petunia, that means insulation (all of which needs to be replaced, btw) and a super-cool, gummy sealing stuff called Butyl Tape (more on that another day).

Oh, and aluminum skin helps, too.

For me, comfort comes from the love of good friends, puppy videos (I admit it), the influence of empowering ideas, a home to call my own, and hearty soup.

Laying in bed that morning, listening to the rain outside my window, knowing that Petunia was getting soaked because of my personal limitations, I realized the immense power of shelter from the storm.

A home should be a stockade, a refuge from the flaming arrows of anxiety, tension and worry.

Wilfred Peterson

As Cheryl Strayed put it in “Wild,” her best-selling book come feature film a la Reese Witherspoon: “Each evening, I ached for the shelter of my tent, for the smallest sense that something was shielding me from the entire rest of the world, keeping me safe not from danger, but from vastness itself. I loved the dim, clammy dark of my tent, the cozy familiarity of the way I arranged my few belongings all around me each night.”   

This, I understand.

I also came to realize something else: I need help.

Of the five vital things I learned while undressing Petunia, asking for help is number four on the list and by far the hardest learned.

  1. The Only Way Out is Through
  2. The Power of Leverage
  3. Shelter from the Storm
  4. Ask for Help, for Pity’s Sake!
  5. You are More than You Know

“Ask for Help for Pity’s Sake!” is going to be a short posting. Stay tuned. ‘Nuff said for now.