There’s this scene in Lilies of the Field where Sidney Poitier’s character begins to build a chapel for the local nuns. He’s intent on doing it solo, for he’s got something to prove.
I, on the other hand, got over any such hangups pretty quick. Throughout this project, I have cheerfully accepted the assistance of others.
Renovating a trailer is a bitch on a bitchboat. I’ve supplied the design, research, labor, funds, and gross disregard for social convention.
There’s still a lot of work to do. I’m maybe at the 65% mark.
However, it would have been much more difficult to get this far, especially in three months, without certain resources. Namely two resources. Namely my mother and stepfather.
Oh, sure, I could have found some warehouse space in California and clawed away at this thing with an Ikea toolset and the barest wisp of a clue. Perhaps I could have finished it before our sun expanded to swallow Earth and form a planetary nebula.
But an aircraft hangar stocked with every tool known to humanity, plus a guy who’s probably built more planes than anyone else in North America, plus a hardware store, a donut shop, and a guesthouse to inhabit, all within a mile radius? That’s a much better deal.
Family that will come with you, on Christmas Eve, to check out the most lo-fi, embarrassing trailer in existence? Family who crack many (many) jokes at your expense, but who never discourage you from doing what you want, and who will occasionally enshroud themselves in trash bags to help you spray paint?

The best.
(Thanks also to Jimmy for the countertop, to Judy for getting the scum out of the galley tambour, to Francisco for helping paint the bedroom despite his fine Italian shoes, and to Bill for taking out some dents with a toilet plunger. Like a boss.)