The camper sat at the house and the house had a date on it. April 30th — rswfire had given notice, and by his own account the deal was done. April 1st was the number that pressed hardest, the marker that meant less than a month remained, and he named it plainly on camera: a scary day. There was still everything to sell. There was still every hour of every day to spend right up until it was time to go. So he was out in the camper, filming in clips, narrating a build in progress with two cats loose in the space behind him.
It was seventy degrees inside, nearly, and he registered that immediately as a problem — not a comfort note but a specification failure. The small fan he had would not do it. He said so, kept filming, and later in the session went into the house to retrieve a larger one, bringing it back and letting the air hit him on camera. That feels nice actually. It's hot in here. The fan was another object that would take up space, and he put it in the same category as his chair: things that consume volume and get to stay anyway, because some things you just have to have.
The tour moved through what he had mounted. Baskets above the slide, double secured, loaded only with bags and light things — because one of them had already come down. He said it directly, as a warning to whoever was watching: think through what you put up there, because you don't want anyone getting hurt. His electronics were up and out of the way. He might line the whole wall with baskets. In the wardrobe he had moved a shelf himself and removed the back rod, since there was no workable way to hang clothes in that orientation; behind it went the dirty laundry, and the little nook to the right took the heavy winter gear. Everything fit real nice. He said he was proud of it, and Oliver discovered the spot mid-sentence.
The cabinet latches got their own moment of genuine enthusiasm — these things are awesome — because they could be left unlocked day to day and locked only for travel days. He had found short ones and a long one for a spot that needed it. Tension rods were coming. The crockpot decision he left open on camera: three quarts or two, and since he expected to cook in it most, he thought it should be allowed to take up some space, but he wasn't ready to say which. The rice cooker had a home already. He mentioned wanting to start juicing, something he had never done, and admitted he had cooked rice exactly once but wanted it to be a staple.
The cats drove more of the design than anything else. Oliver would plow through the screen door if given the chance — rswfire said he did not trust that one, so the screen would stay closed at the bottom, blocked with cardboard or whatever worked, leaving only the upper portion open. Protective pieces went up where Oliver liked to jump. The litter boxes were tucked below the bed area with a gap that Bailey had already investigated twice; rswfire thought there was enough room and was waiting to see. Velcro held things in place, out of sight. Bed down, nice space for them, hoping they would like it. He named the difficulty out loud more than once — we're going to be all on top of each other, this is going to be hard — and in the same breath said he was happy to see a clean, safe environment for his cats and himself.
Oliver bit him. Then bit him again when he tried to pick him up. I knew you would do that. Just tried to pick you up, that's all. He said it without heat. Bailey had gone straight into the carrier when it came out, as if he understood what was happening and wanted to be wherever rswfire was. They had been sad, stuck in the house while he worked out here so much, so he let them come along, and they were being terrorists, and he loved them, and Oliver could do what he wanted because he was his cat.
Near the end he settled something he had been circling: the monitor could not stay. He had almost reached that state, then reached it — it couldn't be there. He also showed the bags he had found, clear ones in every size, one filled so far, which would nest inside the larger waterproof bags bound for the storage phase. He thought that was going to work out great. There was a strange handheld object he could not identify at all and asked the camera about honestly — what is the point of this thing, how do you use it, I truly don't get it. Then the standard close: he hoped it helped, hoped people would like and comment, hoped they would consider subscribing. Behind him the space was still a disaster in places, and he said that too, right alongside how much progress he had made and how excited he was, having a good day, no doubt about it, just real hot in here.