Buses, tiny houses, and shipping containers have all become popular building materials for one-of-a-kind homes.
These affordable substitutions for conventional housing provide the same level of comfort and a variety of customization options.
Jo Ann Ussery, on the other hand, designed her own unique home before it became popular.
She bought an old Boeing 727 and turned it into a lovely house.
Wonderful housing.
When Ussery’s home in Benoit, Mississippi, was destroyed in 1993, her adventure officially began.
She and her two kids needed a place to live because her husband had unexpectedly passed away, but they weren’t wealthy.
She had believed that purchasing a trailer would make all of her problems go away, but she soon realized she couldn’t afford a house big enough to accommodate her enormous family.
Ussery’s brother-in-law Bob, who works as an air traffic controller, suggested they try living aboard a plane.
Ussery was drawn to the idea and visited a Boeing 727 that had been disassembled for its parts.
Despite the piece’s $2,000 price tag (including shipping), she fell in love at first sight.
Ussery nicknamed her private Boeing 727 “Little Trump” after learning that Donald Trump also owned a private Boeing 727.
She started her expensive and time-consuming home improvements right away.
Less than $30,000 (or about $60,000 in modern currency) went toward the renovation.
While she worked on the inside, she needed to make sure it stayed in its current position.
Ussery made use of the lake that was already present on her property by bringing the plane down with its nose over the water. To achieve this specific goal, a sizable amount of concrete was used to secure the tail. The interior, which was roughly 1,500 square feet, was immediately demolished by her.
The aircraft measures 138 feet in length and has 76 windows.
Although the aircraft’s windows weren’t functional, as is typical of commercial aircraft, she wasn’t bothered by this because the air conditioning was working.
She upgraded the insulation and put in new flooring. What specific components of the original 727 were kept?
It is a brilliant idea to only have one airplane bathroom and overhead bins for your belongings.
The interior design.
Ussery was able to concentrate on the finer details and improved comforts once the significant changes were finished.
The remodeled jet had three bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and even a laundry room.
The washer and dryer were there, but it also had a phone and an oven.
Without a doubt, Ussery’s work on the cockpit’s view of the lake was the most significant improvement.
It was transformed into a royal master bathroom with a soaking tub by her.
She designed the room’s layout to give everyone who was in it the sensation of floating.
The renovation was completed entirely by Ussery, which is especially noteworthy.
Before deciding to make her converted plane into a public museum, she lived there from 1995 to 1999.
Sadly, after being transported a short distance, it fell off the carriage and collapsed.
Each babysitter resigned after encountering my husband – Curious, I concealed a nanny cam to uncover the reason
When three babysitters quit after just one day, Sarah knew something was off. Determined to figure out what was going on in her home, she set up a hidden camera, and what she discovered left her stunned.
The morning sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting a soft light on the breakfast table where Lily’s half-finished cereal bowl sat. I wiped Max’s sticky hands as he giggled, completely unaware of the frustration building up inside me.
My phone buzzed on the counter, and I didn’t even need to look to know what it was. I felt a familiar sinking feeling hit my stomach. With a sigh, I picked up the phone.
The screen flashed a message from Megan, the babysitter I had hired just yesterday.
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to continue working with your family. Thank you for the opportunity.”
My chest tightened as I read the words again, trying to make sense of them. Megan had been great, just like the others—kind, responsible, and so enthusiastic when I’d interviewed her. What had changed in just a day?
I leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the message. A faint clatter from the living room snapped me back to reality. Lily was busy with her toy, her little brow furrowed in concentration, while Max toddled around, laughing at his own tiny steps. They were fine, happy, even. So why did every babysitter leave after just a day or two?
I deleted Megan’s message and glanced at the clock. Julie would be here soon for our usual coffee catch-up. Maybe talking to her would help me make sense of this mess. As I tidied up the kitchen, I couldn’t shake the nagging thought creeping into my mind.
Was I doing something wrong? Was it the kids? Or was there something I just wasn’t seeing?
When Julie arrived, I greeted her with a hug, trying to hide my frustration with a smile. But as soon as we sat down with our coffees, it all came spilling out.
“I don’t get it, Julie,” I said, setting my cup down harder than I meant to. “This is the third babysitter who’s quit after just one day. They all seemed so happy when I hired them, but then they just… leave. No explanations. Nothing.”
Julie sipped her coffee, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “That’s really strange, Sarah. You’re not asking too much, are you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. The kids are well-behaved, and I’m paying well. I just don’t get it.”
Julie leaned back, tapping her fingers lightly on her cup. “Do you think it could be… something else?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
She hesitated, then spoke carefully. “I mean, maybe it’s not the job that’s making them leave. Maybe it’s something—or someone—else in the house.”
Her words hit me like a splash of cold water. I hadn’t even thought of that. My mind immediately went to Dave, but I quickly brushed the thought aside. No, that couldn’t be it. He’d been supportive of my decision to go back to work, or at least, he’d said he was.
Still, Julie’s suggestion planted a seed of doubt. I tried to shake it off as we finished our coffee, but the thought stuck with me, gnawing at me long after she left.
I was exhausted from hiring new babysitters, only for them to quit after just one day. At first, I chalked it up to bad luck. But after the third one left, it started to feel more like a pattern. The kids wouldn’t tell me much—Lily’s five, and Max is two, so what can I expect?
I was eager to go back to work, but I couldn’t until I found someone who would actually stay. Something wasn’t adding up, and I was determined to figure it out.
By the time the clock ticked past midnight, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to know. I wasn’t going to sit around in the dark, doubting myself or anyone else. It was time to take matters into my own hands.
The next morning, after Dave left for work, I rummaged through Max’s closet and found the old nanny cam we’d used when he was a baby. It was small, discreet, and perfect for what I needed. With shaky hands, I set it up in the living room, tucking it between some books on the shelf where it wouldn’t be noticed.
I told myself this was just for peace of mind. If nothing was wrong, then I’d have nothing to worry about. But if something—or someone—was behind all of this, I needed to see it with my own eyes.
Later that day, I hired another babysitter. Megan had seemed so promising, but I couldn’t dwell on that. This time, I went with Rachel, a sweet college student with a bright smile. She greeted the kids with so much enthusiasm, and for a moment, I let myself hope that maybe this time would be different.
But as I left the house, I didn’t head to work. Instead, I parked down the street and pulled out my phone, my heart racing as I watched the live feed from the nanny cam.
At first, everything seemed fine. Rachel was playing with the kids, and they seemed happy. But my grip tightened on the steering wheel as the minutes ticked by. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong.
And then, just like clockwork, Dave came home early.
I sat in my car, eyes glued to my phone screen. Rachel was on the living room floor, playing blocks with Max. Everything seemed fine, just like it always did at first. But my gut told me to stay alert.
When Dave walked in, my heart pounded. He hung up his keys, his smile a little too casual as he greeted Rachel. “Hey there, how’s it going?”
Rachel looked up, a bit startled. “Oh, everything’s great. The kids are wonderful.”
“Good to hear,” he replied, though his voice had a forced warmth. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Rachel hesitated but nodded. They moved to the couch, and I leaned closer to the screen, anxiety tightening its grip on me.
“Look,” Dave began, his tone serious, “the kids can be a handful, especially Max. Sarah’s been struggling with postpartum depression, and it’s been tough for all of us.”
My breath caught. Postpartum depression? That wasn’t true. My hands tightened around the steering wheel as I tried to process what I was hearing.
Rachel looked concerned. “I’m so sorry to hear that. But the kids seem fine to me.”
“They are,” Dave said, “most of the time. But it can get overwhelming. If you feel like this isn’t the right fit, it’s okay to step away now before things get too complicated.”
Rachel looked down, clearly unsure of what to say. Then Dave leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “And just between us, I’ve had problems with babysitters in the past. If they don’t leave quietly, things can get… messy.”
Rachel’s face turned pale. She quickly nodded. “I understand. Maybe you’re right. I should go.”
Dave smiled, satisfied. “No hard feelings. It’s for the best.”
Rachel didn’t waste any time gathering her things and heading for the door. She barely looked at the kids as she left.
I sat in the car, stunned. Dave had been sabotaging every babysitter, driving them away with his lies and threats. And I had no idea until now.
The next morning, the air in the kitchen felt thick, heavy with the words I hadn’t said yet. The usual clatter of breakfast prep faded into the background as I stood by the sink, gripping the edge of the counter.
“Dave,” I said, breaking the silence, “we need to talk.”
He looked up, surprised. “What’s up?”
“I know what you’ve been doing,” I said quietly. “With the babysitters.”
For a split second, guilt flashed in his eyes. But he quickly hid it. “What do you mean?”
“I saw the nanny cam footage,” I replied, my voice steady but filled with hurt. “You lied to them. You made them think I couldn’t handle things. Why?”
His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, you were spying on me?”
I clenched the dish towel in my hands, trying to keep my anger in check. “Spying? Is that what you call it? After everything you did? You lied to them, Dave. You told them I had postpartum depression—”
“Well, you’ve been stressed—”
“No,” I interrupted, my voice rising. “Don’t twist this around. You scared them off on purpose. You made them think our home wasn’t safe, that our kids were too much to handle. And you made me think it was my fault. Why, Dave? Why would you do that?”
His calm facade cracked just a little. He glanced down at the table, his fingers tapping nervously against the wood. “I just… I thought it was better for the family if you stayed home with the kids. That’s where you’re needed, Sarah. Not out working.”
I stared at him, stunned by how easily the words came out of his mouth, as if he really believed what he was saying. “So, you decided that for me?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet as I teared up. “You decided what was best for me without even talking to me about it?”
“I was trying to protect you,” he said defensively, though his voice had lost some of its confidence. “You’ve been overwhelmed with the kids, and I didn’t want to add more stress by having you go back to work.”
I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat, but I forced it down. “Protect me? By lying to me? By manipulating every attempt I made to get back to work? That’s not protection, Dave. That’s control.”
He looked at me, his expression hardening. “I’m doing what’s best for the kids.”
“And what about what’s best for me?” I shot back. “Don’t I get a say in that? I’m their mother, but I’m also more than that. I love our kids, but I need to have my own life too. You don’t get to take that away from me.”
The kitchen suddenly felt too small, the air too thick, as we stood there in silence, my words hanging between us. I could see the stubbornness in his eyes, the refusal to admit he’d been wrong. But I also saw the cracks in his resolve, the guilt he couldn’t quite hide.
“I don’t know what happens next,” I said finally, my voice softer now but still firm. “But I can’t stay here, not like this. I need time to think.”
“Sarah, don’t do this,” he said, his tone suddenly pleading. “I never meant to hurt you.”
I looked at him, my heart heavy, but my decision was made. “I know you didn’t. But you did.”
Silence hung in the air as I turned and walked out of the kitchen, my mind made up. I couldn’t stay here, not like this. As I packed a bag for the kids and me, I felt a mix of sadness and relief. The future was uncertain, but at least now, I was taking control.
If this story pulled you in, you’ll love the next one. It’s about a husband who thought he had everything covered—until his wife checked his car and found something that changed everything. Click here to see what she discovered.
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