On the Road

One day, out of the blue, fiancé had a simple idea.

(Most disasters in my life begin with a simple idea, but they're usually my own.)

She wanted a place to sleep when we go visit my mom.  Now, mom's house is just fine, but, when we go to visit, we have a tornado of a little boy and a mammoth of a puppy.  Our 10 month old puppy now weighs almost 180 lbs.

As such, my fiancé doesn't sleep well because she's worried that our invading force will wake the rest of the house.  It's all in her head, of course, but try telling her that.  Really, please try telling her.  I've not had any luck with it; perhaps you will.

A couple of months ago, she sweetly said that it would be nice to have a small travel trailer that we could leave at mom's place.  That way, she explained, she would have a place to collect her brood and know that she wasn't bothering anyone.  In so doing, she could finally get a good night's sleep while visiting.

She had something like this in mind:

I wasn't too wild about a little-bitty thing like that, but, whatever.  All I could imagine is how many times I'd bump my head and scrape my shins.  I have to tell you, I wasn't warm to the idea.  I was willing, but it didn't sound like very much fun.

Then she kept on researching.  She discovered that one could get an older motor home for a reasonable price.

Unfortunately, that little discovery unleashed an avalanche.  Before we knew it, we were knee-deep in motor homes for sale.

Up until this point in my life, I'd never wanted a motor home.  Now all I could see was me cruising across the country with my house strapped to my back.  Johnny Appleseed and Lewis & Clark eat your hearts out!

I had the fever.

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Reckonings of a Curmudgeon