Actual unretouched conversation preceding this post, over breakfast:
Me: Is it okay with you if I blog about last night?
Otto: *raises his eyebrows in the classic “Are you on crack?” gesture*
Me: No. No! Not, you know, ALL of last night. But… you know, the early parts.
Otto: *shakes his head slowly, wide-eyed, conveying that I’m trying to kill him*
Me: Otto! I just mean… you KNOW what I mean. I’m not going to say anything… inappropriate. But I know you’re descended from Puritans and easily embarrassed, SO I’M ASKING. If it’s going to mortally embarrass you, I won’t.
Otto: *sighing* It’s your site.
Me: Yes it is. But I don’t want to make you unhappy. If you really don’t want me to, I won’t. I can write about… squirrels.
Otto: It’s your site.
Me: You said that already.
Otto: *sighing again* I trust you.
Me: Do you?
Otto: *dropping his head into his hands* Oh, God.
The thing is, you understand, we’re without the kids. And we’re camping, which—although I’m still working while we’re away—is a vacation. Without kids! And we’re consenting adults who are married and love each other, and OH MY GOD OTTO THAT’S ALL I’M SAYING, CALM DOWN. (Also: Hi, Dad! I am of course referring to our desire to work on a crossword puzzle together!)
So last night we were lounging around and playing with the dog on our bed (otherwise known, in Licorice-speak, as ZOMGTHEBIGBED), and she hopped down and was playing with her ball on the dinette bench (remember, we have U-shaped seating around our table, and then up behind the U is where our bed folds out), and it’s possible that Otto and I then began, um, enjoying each other’s company while the dog was otherwise occupied.
But almost immediately, I became a little paranoid about the fact that the light was still on, because our bed is essentially housed in a tent-top and it occurred to me that in the dark, with the light on, it was possible that we were visible in silhouette to the rest of the campground. So I got up and turned off the light, which convinced Licorice that YAY, it’s bedtime! I get to sleep in the ZOMGTHEBIGBED! She hopped right up on the bed. Otto put her back down on the kitchen seating. We resumed smooching and she hopped back up again and immediately inserted herself between us, because clearly WE HAD FOOD, what with the mouth-noises and all. Otto put her back down on the kitchen seating. We told her to stay. We went back to each other and a few seconds later I felt a small furry creature army-crawling her way along my back until a wet nose was jammed into my ear (not Otto’s).
This was all about as romantic as you might imagine.
Otto got up and told Licorice to go to her crate, which of course caused her to burrow into me and go completely boneless. After a couple of capture attempts, Otto had her and stuffed her into the crate. She whimpered a little. Otto came back to bed and we looked at each other as the dog whimpered some more. “She’ll stop soon,” he whispered, resuming our attempt at a little quality time.
Two minutes later, just as the dog had finally fallen silent and things were, um, progressing nicely, my cell phone rang. The ringtone meant it was Chickadee. We glanced at the clock; 9:30ish.
Otto sighed. “Do you want to get it?” he asked.
“Nah,” I said, “She’s probably just calling to say goodnight. We can call them in the morning.” Eventually the ringing stopped. We soldiered onward.
A minute later, Chickadee called Otto’s phone. Only, Otto let her choose her ringtone on his phone, and she’d chosen the “barking dogs” one. I’d no sooner told Otto to ignore it than Licorice started barking and howling in response.
It took a few minutes to get Licorice calmed down. Then she resumed crying. We tried to ignore her and focus on each other.
Then my phone started chiming because—with no answer on either phone—Chickadee had decided to send me a text message, instead.
Needless to say, tonight we’re turning off all phones and drugging the dog. DON’T JUDGE ME.