Hear Me Flush

There are days when I crave a simple life, one that features a scenic stroll or laughing with my favorite people over wine and food.

Since I’m not a paragliding, jet skiing, bungee jumping thrill seeker, my cravings are easily satisfied.

The above definition works when I’m on my own. Add a drop of partner to the mix and my life can go from simple to frenzied. Paul’s “big picture” also includes simplicity although adding toys to the tableaux can create challenges.

Toys, like chocolate chips in cookie dough, are enhancers. These enhancers will give you a cheery endorphin high, or painful cavities and a headache, if you’re allergic to cocoa.

Same goes when you decide to buy an RV.

Don’t assume I’m not a team player. I lusted for a trailer as much as Paul did, and together we spent months weighing the pros and cons of various sizes and designs. Did I say months? Let’s just say RV salespeople stopped returning our calls or making eye contact in the showroom.

We finally found one that pushed all the right buttons, even had an adorable miniature bathroom with a tub and shower combo. There’s no rule that I have to be dirty while camping. It’s bad enough – with my oversized bib overalls – that I resemble SpongeBob SquarePants. If nothing else, I want to smell fresh.

Envision us camped alongside a babbling brook, enjoying nature, reveling in the great outdoors . . .

Pause on the great outdoors. We picked up the trailer at 4 pm on a Thursday and within hours had suffered our first damage. That adorable bathroom was soaked from hail that smashed the rooftop vent and took out part of the ceiling fan.

That means we’re hail-christened, right? We’ll never have to worry about hail again.

Pause on the hail. After setting up the awning and unfolding our lawn chairs at our first camp site, those innocent-looking clouds dumped not only rain but more lashing hail. It hammered the kitchen roof vent and sounded like Jiffy Pop. I waited for that vent to join the broken one above my adorable toilet.

“Are we having fun yet?” I called out.

The hail stopped long enough for us to start a camp fire. Then another onslaught of rain followed.

This time Paul was prepared with a tarp to cover our fire. Now envision us hunched under that tarp, each holding up a corner and gasping for air next to the smoky fire.

Through fits of coughing I called out, “Is this the fun part?”

Between hail and rain, I had a quick lesson in gray and black water, brake controls and leveling blocks. Ask me anything about hitches, water pumps and propane bottles.

I also learned that Whiskey Jacks steal food from your plate when your back is turned, and squirrels will bite the fingers and toes of those who feed them. Plus, birds only poop on clean clothes and towels, never dirty laundry.

But was I having fun? Damn straight. I loved it and didn’t want to leave when our supplies dwindled. After five days it was either go home or start eyeing the squirrels’ nuts.

While discovering ash smudges in unmentionable creases, I suddenly realized I’m an official RV Woman. Hear me roar.

Turns out I fulfilled my simple wish – strolls in the scenic woods and meals with one of my favourite people.

Now that I’m an RV Woman, I’m ready for a few more drops of action added to the cookie dough. Bring on the chocolate chips. And hear me flush my adorable toilet.

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