Housing Search Part 2-"The Midnight Visitor"

So if you scroll down, you will see my previous story about a wonderful cabin in a swamp, *Just Right* toilet paper, and baby elephants. Here is where the saga continues.

After leaving Chigger's place, I headed to what I thought was my only other option for housing in Forks. An older widowed woman was renting out a double wide trailer about 20 minutes outside of town, but wanted almost $500/month for it. I decided after the clear bathroom fiasco that maybe this was a gift horse. When I arrived at her house (now with less than 36 hours till rotations started), I saw a small petting zoo. Chickens, goats, ducks, peacocks, a couple dogs, and a llama called this place home. Then I saw her...

She looked like Prof. Trelawney(?) from Harry Potter. Coke-bottle glasses with 4 inch diameter lenses, I knew why she was living in this cloudy rainforest. If those glasses ever caught and focused the sun, her head would burst like JiffyPop. She approached me like Noah, or maybe more like Ace Ventura when he calls his animals. We made small talk and walked to the trailer in question. I didn't see any fences other than the large outer one, and wondered if the yard was all one big cage. I also wondered why I wasn't stepping in more bird/goat/dog/llama shit. I soon found out why. Apparently, the front porch of the trailer was the designated litterbox for the farm. The railings around it were painted white...not with real paint unfortunately. Upon entering the trailer, I I wondered whether the previous owner had dogs, or if the dogs I had seen outside were the previous renters. My acute sense of smell was interrupted by a shrill, load cackle directly behind me. It was a male peacock. I asked what I thought was a very important question:
"Are they like chickens, they wake up early in the morning to crow or anything?"

"Oh no! They make that noise all day an night!" she replied with a self satisfied smile. I think she actually liked that about them.

I decided at that point that maybe this wasn't the place for me either. Perhaps that syringe floor apartment was still available? Probably a good decision too. From what I heard at the clinic, the last renters (male) complained that occasionally Miss Glasses would tip back a little too much Vicodin and come over for a visit...of the conjugal variety. It was kinda like that Garth Brooks song "That Summer", lonely widow woman and all that stuff. Except in the song I kinda felt the lady was good looking, y'know a cougar. Not a retired hippie wearing a moomoo literally covered in chickenshit. I guess when you think about it, the lady in the song coulda looked like that too, she was trying to run a farm. **My opinion of Garth Brooks just took a massive blow**

I declined that rental offer as well. Fortunately, at the last minute, my preceptor called and said he had found some housing I could use that was in town and really cheap. Crap, gotta sign off.