DAY EIGHT: Setbacks and Continuations

I was a hot mess on Wednesday. Leaving that camper, poor Hermie One,  sitting there at the dealership and walking away was just miserable. I found a cheap motel (tourist tip – motels in Williamsburg are surprisingly affordable. Like, cheaper than campgrounds.) and socked myself in to be miserable. I called my poor long suffering friends and my daughter and ranted and raved and cried and freaked out all over the place. They counseled calm and waiting and seeing how I felt the next day and I shouted that I couldn’t be calm and didn’t they understand that everything was RUINED and my life was OVER and generally expressed my inner emo 15 year old with a vengeance.

_MG_1006 But nobody, not even me or Morrissey, can stay emo all the time. I remembered that I have  an old friend who lives in the area – turns out that she lives like, down the street – and we went out to dinner at this great laid back little place in Yorktown. Yorktown! It’s a town and not just a battleship parked forever in Charleston SC on which, incidentally, the adolescent me attended her Junior/Senior dance, insulted a Citadel cadet, got drunk and wound up watching the sun rise on Sullivan’s Island. Who knew it was a town? I have only ever known it as a ship. This is the view from the small beach across from the restaurant. As you can see, Yorktown is really cool and beautiful and as you cannot see but should, it is full of cats who are apparently special colonial American cats. Yay cats! My old friend is doing really well; it was good to see her. I calmed down a much needed bit.

Then I came back to my motel and made a decision: Put the camper in storage, stay here for a while and try to sell it. I like the camper a LOT. But, I pretty much LOVE my truck. Given the choice of getting rid of one or the other, I’m going to try to keep the truck.

So the next day, which would be yesterday, Thursday, I did just that. I slept late and went out for breakfast which was annoying, because the servers were clearly at war with one another. This always means trouble – I sat there for like 20 minutes ignored – and I was so irritated by the whole thing I left a 15% tip which for me is the equivalent of most people leaving nothing and writing Go fuck yourself on a napkin to boot. Then I went to Walmart and bought some rubbermaid bins and other various stuff (a red toaster. I don’t know why I bought a goddamn toaster. I think I lost my mind. I mean, I like toast, but I do not need a toaster at the minute, no matter how red and cute, I am living in a fucking motel room) forgetting that I meant to buy a real GPS. Naturally, I immediately then had another fight with Google maps when instead of taking me to my camper, they took me in some kind of weird ass circular loop back towards Wal Mart. Got the camper – this was a big ordeal of course because putting that thing on and off the truck is brutal no matter how you cut it and also I was really scared to do it at all. Limped the camper to a storage unit about five miles away. This was also a big ordeal because you need to have insurance to get storage and that involved calling Progressive who were all super nice, don’t get me wrong, but it is the 21st century and any and all business transactions must involve an hour or so of bouncing from one automated garbled phone answerer to another. By the way if you want a truck camper – and I have one for sale! It’s here! – one of the good things about it is you don’t need special insurance. It’s covered by your truck insurance when it’s on your truck and if it’s off, it’s covered by your homeowners or renters insurance. So, silver linings. You still need to get your insurance company to fax your storage company, though.

Finally all the paperwork was done and I was in, parking the truck and starting the lengthy miserable process of getting the camper off. It took hours.  I had to run to a Lowes to get some sawhorses – I’m just burning through money, here, if there was a prize for spendthriftieness I would have the gold medal by now – and I’m still really nervous that it’s going to fall down and break into a million pieces. I’m also nervous that nobody will buy it. I’m also just generally nervous, which you probably have gathered by now.

Then I came back to this motel and attempted to negotiate a weekly rate. Ha ha! It is to laugh! Not only can I not have a weekly rate, but the rate I was paying goes up by $30 a night for the weekend.  So I politely demurred, came back up to my room, got online and am moving today to the identical damn motel (I suspect that once, in halcyon days of yore, like probably the 90s, they were one large and lavish motel) next door for the same (cheap!) rate I have been paying. Which is a big pain in the ass but hey I am saving like $100. And maybe the people over there have quieter sex. One can hope.


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