Single-wide like all the others, #42 is about as small as they get while still counting as a mobile home rather than a travel trailer. It's old, too, bright turquoise, with a slightly curvier look than the newer ones, and a little porch and a bay window. It's got the usual aluminum carport, and under it usually the less-usual van that serves as the occupant's main transport. A handful of potted plants serve as 'garden', two of which feature pink plastic flamingos stuck amidst them.
They say most people don't look up. If so, most people would miss the fact that the entire ceiling has been painstakingly covered with aluminum foil. Sort of a poor man's mirrored ceiling, maybe. And if the location didn't, the rest of the decor suggests the inhabitant is indeed poor.
Suspecting his furniture came from Goodwill would be kind; most people's thoughts would run more to 'scavenged from the curb.' A '70s era orange recliner and a lime green armchair with a random chunk of wood standing in for one leg frame a couch about which nothing complimentary can be said at first sight. It's ugly. The shape is odd, with weird wing-like arms; the fabric is disturbing, someone having decided that hot pink and yellow argyle with black accents was a great pattern, which ought to be achieved in a rough and nubby polyester. The front of each arm has clear plastic covering where cats have scratched, and the cushions seem to have been inexpertly patched with whatever was handy. If one dares to sit on the thing, though, its redeeming feature becomes clear: it's sinfully comfy. There are a couple black chenille throw pillows on it, which could be considered Making An Effort. The coffee table is wooden and has obviously been through a lot in its time, as have the battered lamp on an end table and the tiny TV on a repurposed dresser across the room. The gas fire installed in one corner is, at least, in somewhat better shape.
Kitchen:
The kitchen is clean but fairly bare. It does, however, boast an ancient microwave with dials rather than a keypad, a cheap coffeemaker, and an old silver toaster that looks like art deco and mid-century modern had a drunken night together they'd never forget. The glasses and mugs and dishware and cutlery are all clearly second-hand, serviceable but entirely unmatched and in some cases edging from simply recycled into kitschy. But there's usually food in the fridge and cupboards. They're never full, and what's in them is sometimes weird, but generally, there's food.
Bathroom:
The bathroom is fairly empty, but clean. It boasts a toilet, sink, and fairly large bath/shower combo. There are also towels, which like most things in the house are not a matched set, but in this case are fairly large and actually reasonably plush. Beyond that, there's shampoo, conditioner, soap... If one looks in the medicine cabinet, one's kind of nosy, isn't one? But one would also find ibuprofen, tylenol, depakote, and xanax, all at various levels of use. Under the sink one might find a bag with a couple bottles of risperidone, untouched.
Bedroom:
The sole bedroom is almost entirely taken up by a tall air-mattress, just enough room left around it to get at the contents of the closet. Which are surprisingly considerable. A slim crate is squeezed in as a nightstand, mostly for the sake of the hula-girl lamp that sits on it. The bed is messily made, but does at least qualify as made. That's something, right?
Porch:
Out on the porch, there are four mismatched outdoor chairs and an inexpensive grill. There's also a few more potted plants, one with a pinwheel in it, and a couple strings of Christmas lights decorating the railings, regardless of time of year.