Still Kicking....

Midnight on a Sunday...moving into another Monday. 3 weeks into the camper life and, amazingly, I'm still happy with my decision to move in here.  Although, there were a couple of days recently...

I had just gotten excited about having my sister-in-law and her 2 kids move into their little, newly renovated cottage here on the property where my Tin Cottage sits.  It was heavenly to see familiar faces, every day, and have visitors here. Plus, as a bonus, I now would have access to running water, a bathroom with hot shower, and a laundry room! We were all just giddy over being around each other. Then, things just went to hades.

Their first morning, less than 7 hours after their arrival, we had a huge rainstorm. Yes, we needed the rain, we always do, but they needed to move their furniture in and it just wasn't happening. The rain stopped eventually and they did get things moved in. The kids started coming to my camper to visit and mostly to check out how their crazy aunt is managing to live in this tiny tin can they affectionately call "The Hippie Shack".  I was thrilled to have them around and to actually 'be' an aunt, finally. Life was getting better.

Just as we were settling into our new routine, and I use that term loosely, three days after their arrival, more natural excitement. We had been sitting outside enjoying the beautiful Kansas evening, having a little wine (probably vodka, but I can't remember), chatting, catching up. Visiting. We watched a storm over to the north of us and decided that we should go inside, but no worries about rain, "to far away."  Goodnights were exchanged and we all went into our little homes.  Less than 10 minutes later, my phone rang.

"Mom, where are you?"
"I'm in my camper. Why?"
"I don't want to scare you, but there's a big storm coming and I think you should go to grandma's, just to be safe."
"Are you sure?"
And that's when I felt the camper shaking; swaying, really, but moving.
"Oh, its getting really windy and there's thunder. Ok, I'm going to Monica's."
"Just go, now."

I grabbed my shoes, my phone and charger (I know, crazy), and called the dog. I opened the door, barely, against the wind and just managed to close it when the wind really kicked up. I just started running.

I ran the 30 yards to her back door and before I could knock, she had the door opened and helping me inside. I realized that I had held my shoes in my hand as I ran instead of putting them on. Probably a good thing.

What seems now like only a few minutes, but was probably more like 20, we heard a loud crack in between the thunder. We looked out the back door and when a bolt of lightning hit, we could see the biggest limb you can imagine, laying across the sidewalk leading to the back door I had just recently run to.

There were lots of exclamations, watching of storm, trying to find it on the internet, more exclamations, then the power went out. And it got warm inside. And I got sick.

This is when my terrible weekend started. This is when I wanted to get in my truck, with the dog, and just start driving back to Texas. What I did instead was go back to my camper, after the storm had passed, lay down to cool off and try to sleep. The next morning after seeing the damage, and realizing our power wasn't coming back on anytime soon, I got the dog and we headed to my daughter's house in town, hoping for a shower, some food, and a working a/c.

Got some food, some coffee, and there was hot water. There wasn't a/c.

I hate to say that I whined. Yep, independent, mature, resourceful woman that I am, started whining. Whining over the heat, the humidity, the lack of a/c, my headache, hunger, lack of a/c, needing a shower, needing clean clothes, being exhausted, lack of a/c.  I fell asleep in her chair. I woke up for food. I feel asleep again. I called hotels but they all wanted too much money. I fell asleep again. I layed in the dark with a little fan on me wishing for a/c. It was a long night.

Next morning I found out that the power had come back on at 11 p.m. the night before. We were only without power for 24 hours. Lucky us. I got the dog and headed back to the farm.  I couldn't shake my sour mood.

My camper had been without power for 24 hours. That shouldn't have mattered since it had been without anything for years while it sat in a driveway, waiting to be cleaned and cared for. Turns out 24 hours does matter. The frig was warm. The freezer was defrosting itself. The dishes from the day before were starting to smell. It was a hot mess.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to be back in my big house in Texas with the a/c on, the frig full, my big soft bed, and my husband there to tell me everything would be okay. I didn't want to clean out this little frig again. I didn't want to have to empty and clean out the port-a-potty. I didn't want to heat water on the camp stove to wash the dishes.  I didn't wanna!!

Well, not that you'd know this about me, but I'm not a quitter.

So, I rolled up my sleeves and dug in. I took out trash; I heated water and cleaned all the dishes; I cleaned out the frig; I cleaned the potty; I organized.  I cleaned the entire camper.  It looked good then. I started digging the place again.

I put on some Billie Holliday and other 40's jazz music for inspiration. The day picked up. We had a great dinner under the stars that night. It turned out to be a good day.

I'm still here. Still fighting forward. I can't quit until the farmhouse is finished and we can move in. I just can't quit now. It will take more than a Kansas wind to knock me off my feet and send me back to Texas.

But a little 'whine' never hurts to help you get through a bad time.