I bought my coconut milk in haste at the store the other day and it is vanilla-flavored coconut milk, instead of normal coconut milk. It is, to put it in a nutshell, disgusting. It is making me sad when I drink my coffee and I refuse to contemplate what it might be like on cereal. I ought to throw it away, find myself a new grocery store, and buy myself some new coconut milk, but the last “coconut milk” I bought was half almond milk, half coconut, and it was also disgusting. I did throw it away. Throwing away two almost full half gallons of milk-like substance feels so wasteful.
Plus, that time, the store didn’t have any regular coconut milk. I’m currently in a place that could be safely described as middle-of-nowhere, and I’m wary of heading out on a drive to a grocery store that might be half an hour away only to discover when I get there that it doesn’t have coconut milk. The obvious solutions occur to me — GPS nearby grocery stores, find their numbers, call them up and ask! — but I currently have no internet, so even that solution means packing up for a drive to find myself some connectivity.
Obviously, by the time you’re reading this, I will have done so, because ha-ha, posting to my blog also requires internet, but at the moment I’m feeling very disinclined to get on the road. It rained last night, gloriously heavy, so that the pounding of drops on the roof of Serenity was like living inside a maraca. And I totally have to google that word, because I’m not sure whether I’ve got the name right, but again… no internet.
So yeah, living inside a maraca, or if that’s not the right word, one of those instruments you play with as a kid, a gourd filled with seeds that you shake like a baby’s rattle. I wasn’t being shaken, but the sound was that fast, heavy rattle. It was lovely. But I had decided when last I looked at the sky that the overcast white wasn’t gray enough to bring real rain, so I left my chair and my towel and my purple-striped Mexican blanket outside.
They are well beyond damp.
I don’t want them inside Serenity.
Honestly, I don’t even want to touch the blanket. I put it down for the dogs because the ground here is hard gravel and dirt, with some puddles of mud, and I didn’t want them — Zelda especially — to choose the mud puddles as the comfiest place to get cozy. Zelda would. Bartleby also likes to roll in the dirt, but not with the same abandon. He’s not a huge fan of baths and he’s much more sensitive about the possibility of scolding. Z likes baths and she’s seldom been scolded so she luxuriates in the dirt, then comes in and goes straight to the tub. With no tub, I don’t know what she’d do, but tracking mud all over my bed has never bothered her, so I’m pretty sure it would involve me needing to do laundry. I guess I’m going to have to do that anyway, since the blanket might never be clean again. But at least after it dries I ought to be able to shake off some of the dirt and fold it up, so it’s out of the way until I manage to find a washer. My sheets, on the other hand… well, sheets are turning out to be a saga of their own.
Dirt in general is turning out to be an interesting aspect of living in a camper. I’m not a dirt-phobe. Good thing, because campgrounds are dirty and dogs track in dirt and living partially outside and otherwise in a very small space means that there is dirt. I was showering yesterday in my cute little bathroom and the floor was muddy. Not just from my dirty feet, but because I have to stash outside stuff on that floor when I’m on the move. The power cords and water hose lie on the ground outside while I’m parked and when I’m putting them away for a drive (“away” being defined as “on the bathroom floor”), I’m not worrying about the fact that they’ve picked up dirt and bits of leaf debris and grass. Generally speaking when I go camping and things get dirty, I think, well, I’ll get it clean when I get home. Except this is home.
I thought my solution would be to wipe them dry with a towel as I rolled them up to stow them away but at the end of that process, I have a dirty towel. And towels — well, towels are causing me almost as much angst as sheets.
Yesterday the radio hosts on a show I was listening to were debating how many times one should use a towel before washing it. There was an actual, honest-to-goodness argument for once. Dry yourself with a towel one time and then wash it. Um, no. I brought five standard towels with me and I’ve jettisoned two of them to take back the storage space they were using. I brought four or five dish towels with me, and that turns out to be not nearly enough. Drying dishes, wiping spills, cleaning hands after cooking, drying hands, wiping off dogs’ feet and bellies after coming in from a walk… at that point, the towel goes in the laundry bag and before I know it, I’m out of dish towels, and nowhere close to needing to do laundry for anything else.
Except maybe sheets. My sheets are causing me some serious angst, but I need to eat breakfast and get moving — and I can’t believe I haven’t written about the more interesting stuff that’s going on! — so more on sheets and sleeping later. And also the interesting stuff.
Judy, Judy, Judy said:
Yeah those would be challenges for me, too. I have camped a lot and I love it but I never liked the dirtiness of camping. One time we camped close to a beach and the sand got everywhere; even in the butter – yuck. Could you maybe stick the hose and power cords in a plastic garbage bag before putting them on the bathroom floor?
Can’t wait to hear about the interesting things. I’ve been writing lately. I think I’m going to go from handwritten to typed on the last session and I may put it up on my blog. One thing is for sure – I need to get myself setup to go from handwritten to computer using voice to text software. I hate typing from a written page.
Voice to text is a great idea when going from handwritten page to typed! It hasn’t worked for me, but that’s because I’ve tried to make up the story as I go. I don’t write much of anything by hand anymore!
More dish towels, fewer bath towels. Yep.
PS, I have a washing machine and a dryer.
It’s going to turn into my greeting, I suspect. “Hi, how are you, so great to see you, can I use your washer?”
Does the RV park you’re staying at have laundry facilities? I’d take advantage of them if I were you. Wondering too, if you used a dishpan of water by the door so when the dog’s feet are dirty, you can dip them and dry them off. The towel wouldn’t possibly be as dirty and you wouldn’t have as much dirt on the inside of your RV. And yes, you have to be tolerate of a bit more dirt than you would be in a home because your space is more confined and you will see it more readily. And the wind blows it in if you have the doors and windows open. Rain on the rooftop had to be nice … I used to love sleeping to the sound of rain falling on the top of an RV. 🙂
Nope, it was a state park. And the one thing about the dirt that I should have mentioned is that it’s such a small space, I really don’t mind cleaning it all the time! I just need to get myself some more dish towels, I guess, and do the great plan I came up with for the sheets (which I will detail in my next post, I hope!)