Living in a mobile home is rubbing off on all of us

The Texan and I have opted against buying a new place to live right now. We're not going to be in SA much longer than a couple of more years, and our real estate market is still in the process of tanking. So instead, we figured that while it would be nice to have a house with a pool, it would be even better not to have an upside-down mortgage that would wipe out what little savings we have.

Thus, we are working on making our current abode more inhabitable. Some of that is fun stuff - redoing the floors - and some of it involves basic maintenance that had been put off to the nebulous time of "later." Well, later is NOW, dammit, and we're getting some work done.

Part of that included replacing the trim on the outside of the mobile home. The other day, our jack of all trades was pounding up the replacement just on the other side of the office. I didn't think it was that big of a racket but Shrapnel obviously disagreed. As the hammer worked on one side of the wall, Shrapnel bounded up, glared, hissed, and started whaling away on the other side of the wall. It was exactly the feline equivalent of "git offa mah property!" We thought it was a fluke but then he did it again later. And, hey, it worked - the guy left. Of course, he did so because the job was done, but still. A victory is a victory.