We take up residence in the mouse hotel

My husband found a little place for us to live in that hadn't been inhabited for two years and was torn down following our nine-month stay. It had four tiny rooms, including a living room with an oil stove and a broken down couch; a bedroom the size of our bed; a bathroom, and a kitchen that was not conducive to either cooking or eating. The place was overrun with mice and was a haven for spiders. I made new curtains to replace the green shower curtains in the kitchen, and I built a book shelf out of 2x6's. I tore the contact paper that served for wall paper off the walls, and tried to clean the embedded grease. I was not successful.

I had to go to my mother in law's to do the washing, and I helped with the garden. We didn't have a telephone for three months. My husband was gone 10-12 hours a day. He got a job running a sweet corn picker for the local food processors so we would have some cash to live on. I was desperately homesick and isolated.

My husband's parents were good to me, but they were about to go under. Farming wasn't what everyone did anymore, and it wasn't easy to stay in business unless you were businesslike, which my father in law wasn't. His real love was gardening, and the farm was too big and too complicated for someone trying to make a larger living.

My mother in law kept the books so well that the place stayed in business until my husband returned. But she kept the decision making, as well as the bank statements, hidden. I found out why much later on. There was no discussion as there ought to be between business partners, but I didn't know any better, and my husband accepted it as he had the excessive responsibility of his youth to keep his father's farm going.