Here in my neck of the woods, my friend girls and I head out of town for MLK weekend for a little peace and tranquility in the woods somewhere in Brown County, where we spend a lot of time talking and eating and sleeping and eating and laughing and crying, oh, and eating.
Seriously, how much stuff could five people even hope to use in two days? Well, you know we like to settle in and not have to run out.
So if you are hankering for an apple, a cookie or need an onion, you better have it. It turned out that we were all very familiar with these bags before the end of our outing.
We arrived at this beautiful cabin in the deep dark woods and carried each and every bag in, put it all away, and started on dinner.
We decided it was likely the best place yet in all the years we've stayed until..........
I took a potty-break about 10:30 and the flusher refused to flush. Hmm, well says I, I'll just wash my hands and inform the girls that this potty be broken. Uh, no water out of the faucet either. So I ran around trying one after another- no, no water. Oh where, oh where has my Handy Man gone? Seriously, you do not want to be the messenger when women must be informed that there will be no flushing or showering in this little cabin tonight. A call was promptly made to the property manager, who sent a maintenance man of sorts to try and rectify the problem. Within 3 minutes of his arrival all five of us desperately needed to use the bathroom. After this strange little man spent two hours under the house, he informed us there would be no water this weekend, as he really was a light bulb man and cisterns and pumps weren't his forte. Yeah, we kind of got that idea. Not wanting to pack up at 1:30 in the morning, we toughed it out, and decided to move the next day.
The morning was brightened significantly when I opened the chickie-girl eggs I brought and found at least evidence of where Handy Man had been. So sweet.
do dishes. After breakfast we headed 20 miles the other direction to our new place. First though, we had to pack up all those bags, again.
It's saving grace, or so I thought for a few minutes, was a fireplace. I love me some fire and set about getting one roaring. Well, as soon as we'd hauled all those bags in, again. I could see the damper was open and the smoke was going straight up the flue, but the house was still getting smokey. Another call to the light bulb changer, whose resume apparently didn't cover fireplaces either. Boo, hiss, the fire had to go.
Still, a good time was had by all. Next year, I'm packing my Handy Man.