It might be “the holiday”, but we have other things on our minds. In just under a week, we’re going on an expedition. Three provinces, seeking precise medical assistance. Important stuff, requiring important plans.
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Want to feel really important? Simple solution: get a dog. Then (although I don’t fully understand the process), let the dog become convinced that you are the ony one that can handle his important need. Things like refilling the water dish, or getting more kibble from where ever I keep it hidden. Or, best, let the dog discover that you can open the door to the outside world, whenever the kidney pressure gets too intense. Sure, there might be some yapping and head butting, but it’s aall part of the fellowship. Lease excuse me. Someone is scratching at the door to come in/out/in/out.
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Sit back. Relax. Ignore that small twinge of pain from your lower back. Probably nothing of importance.
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And with age, comes wisdom. Or experience, at least. This next anecdote is offered third hand. As in, I wasn’t there, but I heard from someone else.
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Ealt with ongoing flooding insult to the injury: BC version. Homeowners in areas of the province that have (nope, not over yet) heavy rainfall and floods have started to hear from their insurers. With enough water damage, the policy you paid for is nothing more than another wet piece of paper in your water-logged home.
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RUNNING JOKE CALENDAR
Our refrigerator collects odd things. Photos of other people’s children. A detailed recycling/garbage schedule. And most importantly, a calendar that details future appointments, of sorts. We have a special sliding date sticker that shows when the border to the US might reopen for vehicle traffic. It’s been sliding, month after month, for more than a year and a half; the latest forecast is next October 21st. I feel secure in knowing that I don’t have any travel option involving four wheels on the ground any time soon.
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The message from our neighbours was clar: they are on “the Rock”, doing what tourists do. A twinge of jealousy in our house. Idle chatter about putting the dog in his magic harness and going off to explore. But, everything comes with a balance. A message from one of the local schools, letting us know that a good part of their population is now in quarantine. And there’s more.
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When is a house a home? In my case, when I’m in it (mine). We spent a good part of the day heading home, after packing up and leaving our campsite on the river bank. Sort of a non-stop trip, with only the requisite refuel and coffee-purchase halts. All the way to the bridge.
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Some days, like this one, prove why schedules are an asset. We got up and set off in search of a dump station (best that we empty before the full point). With construction reroutings, it took much longer than usual to align ourselves with that magic hole in the ground. But, we did, buying a few more days of “mobile home away from home”. And with that pesky detail out of the way, we went to find a genuine “gargantua breakfast”.
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We did not extend our driveway camping for a second night. Instead, after fond farewells, we headed by a new route to our next destination. Through the hills, cross country, to the main highway. Went well, considering that we had only a vague clue that a road even existed. And getting into the big city is old school, after all these years.
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