It's the little things

I'm not a camper.

I'm also not a morning person.

When the girls were little, one year during our church's Family Camp, I drove them over to our camp every morning so they could participate in the day camp program. We had to be there before 9:00 which meant leaving home around 8:30. Now, we could do it, but by the end of the week they weren't moving very quickly in the morning and I wasn't sounding very sweet or loving as I tried to get them out the door.

I told Clarence that I'd be willing to camp, as long as we had a trailer to camp in. No tents for me. His stipulation was that he didn't want a pop-up. There's just something about pulling those canvas ends out on a pop-up that brings on the rain.

We managed to find a nice trailer for a price we could afford. Clarence's dad is a sweetheart and not only moves it back and forth for us with his truck, he also stores it at his relatively tree-free house since we live in our own little forest.

It's been all good. Until last summer when Clarence gave our granddaughter baths in the little trailer tub. It required kneeling in front of the toilet where, every year, the carpet gets damp. I knew this. I thought he knew it, too, but he was rather surprised by his wet knees.

After camp, he pulled out the toilet to try to fix it.

His dad asked him this spring if he'd gotten a new toilet yet. We had both forgotten the old one was gone. Dad noticed when he was in the trailer, vacuuming up the dead flies that litter the place every spring. [Have I ever mentioned that my father in law is just as wonderful as my husband? I thought it was amazing that the trailer stayed so clean every winter until the girls were visiting them one time and Grandpa had Allison help him do the vacuuming.]




The new toilet is installed. It's such a little thing, right? Nope, not to me.

I'm ready to "rough it" again.