The whole situation with the fence has gotten so intolerable, we’ve run away from home.
Okay, fine, STRICTLY SPEAKING that’s not quite true. I mean, sure, we ARE on Day 25 of our one and a half day fence job, and it is absolutely true that it is not yet done, and it is also true that Fence Guy, after offering to rip down the fence and build us a new one then had the BIG GIANT BRASS ONES to come back and ask for a materials deposit, and when we pointed out that we’d already put down thousands of dollars, remember? (subtext: OH HELLS NO), he emailed Otto and said “Well then we’ll need another solution” and we sat on that for a day and then he realized that maybe, just maybe, while we were not answering him, we were talking to a lawyer (we were), he MAGICALLY came up with a way to do it without additional money (imagine!), but technically speaking, we were already planning to leave home, fence or no. It’s just that the whole fence thing makes me FEEL like setting fire to the house and driving away.
Thanks to Otto’s calming influence, I didn’t torch anything. We just drove away, instead.
This is the time of summer when the kids pack up and go off with their dad for a while, and so we delivered them to him and then loaded up the camper and a very confused dog (“My giant hairless puppies! Where have they gone? Why aren’t they here with us??”) and headed to the coast.
Here we interrupt this narrative to point out a very important and interesting difference between me and Otto. I am a homebody. I’m a slug wearing person-skin. I can happily sit at my desk working all day and then flop on the couch at night and watch television and never wander any further than the kitchen and be perfectly content. Otto, on the other hand, never met a twisty road that didn’t beckon to him, and he is always happier outside than in. The camper is a rather ingenious compromise to get me out of the house, in that… it IS a house. I still have a place I can be a slug (in the air conditioning!), but we travel more. I, of course, spend half of every camping trip looking at Otto sitting in a camp chair reading a book and finally say, “But couldn’t you do that at home?” and Otto will try to explain to me why it’s intrinsically superior to do it on a different patch of ground, and eventually all I’ll hear is Charlie Brown’s teacher (“wah wah wah, wahwahwahwah wah wah”) and I’ll either zone out or kiss him and follow it with “That’s nice, honey.”
Anyway. (What?) We drove about six hours but are inexplicably STILL IN GEORGIA. It turns out this state is kinda big, yo. We are now on a remote island (motto: not actually all that remote, and enjoy the free wifi) where so far we have enjoyed the time-honored camping activities of eating hotdogs for dinner, watching the dog be driven out of her mind by the squirrel population, and discovering that I forgot to bring any Sudafed and yes, I still have this stupid cold and can’t breathe, and HEY, we’re on a remote island and civilization (read: Sudafed) is close to an hour away.
So this morning Otto got up and had breakfast and took a shower and headed back off the island to find me some Sudafed. Can you believe it? That man is selflessness personified. Also, he’s probably hoping to get lucky and snotty tissues really aren’t sexy. (You’re welcome for that visual.)
To thank him for being so awesome, while he was gone I did the dishes, put dinner in the crock pot, and took a shower even though my head is clogged and I feel gross. I AM A GIVER.
The camper is, um, well, closer to the “cramped” end of the “cozy” spectrum when all four of us are here. With just the two of us (and the dog), it’s actually feeling kind of spacious. I asked Otto this morning—as we sat here drinking coffee, my feet up on the bench, pressed into his hip—if this is what it’s going to be like once the kids are grown and gone and it’s just us and the dog and the camper. Will we still love hanging around together like this? Still go on adventures and enjoy each other’s company and have things to talk about?
He said he thinks so. That he’s looking forward to that time, when the day-to-day isn’t quite such a rollercoaster, and we can just drive into the wilderness and hang out and relax. “You and me, and the dog, and nothing to do but enjoy each other,” he said, rubbing my leg.
I told him I plan to bring less snot, when we get to that time. Because I’m a romantic. I’m pretty sure that made the whole long drive here and the drive back out to get me some Sudafed totally worth it for him.