When the plates—all sixteen of them—were in the dishwasher, both Dave and I felt happy. It’s a signal. And if I sit with what it signals, I see Dave at the grill, the fresh-out-of-the-oven potato buns for hamburgers, the half loaf of bread cut into cubes and covered with eight eggs and a cup of milk for French toast casserole. I see us all at the dining room table and gathered around the kitchen island. Together.
The waterfall effect of reverting the house to daily living meant Evelyn’s bed needed to be moved from the guest room. However, the floor and rug, just like the now-plateless cabinets, reflected the week’s priorities. Rooms became catch-all areas as we ran out the door to the next adventure, whether it was Ocmulgee National Historical Park or High Falls State Park.
Also, instead of her bed, Evelyn positioned a memory foam camping pad behind the couch, and for three or four nights she forwent her bedroom entirely. Oh, and she took my spot in the bed one night, which routed me to the couch. I was ready to couch it up until she got her bed back, but somehow the behind-the-couch idea stuck.
The adventure bug has bitten me, so now I’m researching sights to see within an hour of me. Where at first I thought I’d seen it all, digging deeper has revealed a Bureau of Land Management area forty minutes away, as well as a seven-acre, mostly outdoor art museum created by an eccentric folk artist.
I just want to go.
My browser is open to a drive-in theater, both one an hour and a half north and another three hours southwest. I’m not against packing up the tent and Archie and heading to a drive-in before staking out our tent for a night of camping. But that could make for a late night, so staying in a cheap motel or Airbnb may be the more comfortable adventure.
That does it for me. I’m going to enjoy a quiet evening of Argentina versus Algeria in the World Cup, caramel corn, and listening to music on my headphones.
See you tomorrow.
Love,
Jaclynn
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