Hello! Things have been dire here and I have been very depressed. Thinking that I might potentially be able to fix that by, well, camping in my camper, you know, the camper I have spent all this money and time and angst on, I went to Hot Springs* last weekend. Above, you see proof that Amelia and Moby can in fact go somewhere other than West Asheville. Yes, we made it to Hot Springs just fine. I left around noon on Friday and came home around noon on Saturday. Towing was okay! Backing up was not! A very nice man called Ronnie got me out of my camping space or I would still be there. He gently suggested that I a) practice more and b) it was probably possible, with a camper as light as Amelia, to unhitch, put the front wheel on and physically turn her around then rehitch. This, he said, might be easier for me than backing up. Go me. I suck at backing up and in my mind I am blaming it on the fact that I failed geometry in 10th grade.
In Hot Springs I took myself on a small hike on the Appalachian trail, went under a bridge, took some pictures of two crows in a tree and then sat quietly in my camper drinking wine. Every time I tried to cook anything, the smoke alarm went off and I couldn’t get it to stop. The dry ice evaporated and my refrigerator immediately got warm. I left my giant bottle of Dr. Bronner’s lavender soap in the shower. I forgot the mayonnaise. The hippie mosquito repellent a friend gave me smelled like an electrical fire (it worked okay, but it worked by repelling every living creature in a half mile radius and my own nose tried to leap off my face.) The store was out of charcoal and firewood so I couldn’t have a fire. The campground was packed and everyone but me seemed to be having a wonderful time. I was the only single person there alone and the couple next to me had, basically, an entire patio set (this is something I do not get. WTF with the lounge chairs and half a cord of firewood and a rug and rope lights and jesus, it’s a bit much for a weekend) and two tiny, terrible old dogs.
As you perhaps can tell, Hot Springs as a cure for depression did not work. I was so depressed by the time I got home on Saturday that I just lay down in bed and basically stayed there until Monday, getting up only to fix vast bowls of carbs and have another unsuccessful try at backing up the camper. And I read two and a half fantasy novels.
I feel as if I’ve had nothing but setback after setback since June and it’s gotten me down. Add insult to injury in my latest downfall and I just started to feel that it was hopeless, I was never going to get out of here. It feels, on some level (OK, the weird level, I grant you) as if Asheville itself doesn’t want to let me go, as if I’ve been sucked into the
vortex ** and now I can never escape. Asheville in the best of times has a lot in common with Hotel California and in the worst of times it’s downright sinister. And I’ve just been sad as hell, partially because of hormones, partially because I get that way sometimes, and partially because, well, see the last entry. My anxiety is at an all time high, too, and I’m afraid. I’m so afraid I can’t even tell anymore if I’m more scared of leaving or giving up and staying. I’m afraid of being on the road and I’m afraid of what might happen here while I’m gone and I’m, well, I’m just afraid. And I feel guilty, too, about the animals mostly, but also the plants and my kids and my friends and oh god, I don’t know, the sad sad ceramic elephant on the porch.
But fuck that.
I got out of bed on Monday. And I moved around. And it cooled off, which helped a LOT (I do not handle heat at all well anymore, ugh, see hormones, above.) I played a lot of Minecraft. I organized some shit. I managed to get the dogs to take their flea meds and I fixed the toilet, two rather impressive achievements. And I made an appointment with the mobile RV repair people to come this morning and look at the fridge. And today, I spent the morning reorganizing my closet*** in the camper and it is actually starting to make sense to me. Then the RV people came and they were super nice.
My refrigerator is fine. The fan wasn’t working, is all, and it overheated, but everything is fine now. It is not going to cost $1000 to fix. I have a refrigerator. I said I would leave when I had a refrigerator.
So I think I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m going to Alabama to see my friends there (shhh I haven’t told them yet I don’t dare make actual plans, every time I do something happens to stop them) to start with and then, well, we’ll see. I might go south. I might go north. I’m definitely going west. Unless, of course, something else awful happens.
But I think, I think there’s a real possibility that I’m leaving tomorrow and spending tomorrow night somewhere in a campground not too far from Chattanooga. Somewhere I have never really been.
And I’m just not going to back up, ever.
*Hot Springs is, like, 40 miles from Asheville. Or less. Even going as slowly as I was going, which is extremely slowly, because Moby can barely make it up hills without Amelia and with her, well, forget it, 40 is our top top speed, it took us an hour and a half. Also I’ve been there before. I’ve been there enough times, in fact, that I have thrown up in the river there from doing tequila shots the night before. In other words, Hot Springs and I have history. I didn’t throw up this time. I didn’t drink any tequila either. Maybe I should have.
** There is supposedly a mystical vortex in Asheville: that is why it’s so enlightened and shit. Also the mountain under Max Patch is supposed to be a giant resonating crystal. And something something Sedona new age ancient spirits guidance power veganaise OM, that is why I am hula hooping around Pritchard Park wearing a tie dye and a self satisfied expression. But, hey, nothing against hippies, I grant you that I am more than partly one myself. Still. I reserve the right to mock them. I worked in a vegetarian restaurant; I earned it.
*** It is a stupid stupid closet. It’s super skinny and deep and not shelved, which is completely idiotic. There were two shelves on top, and I tried to hang one of those shoe bag hanger shelf things from the bottom one and then use that like shelves to hold all my rolled clothes. Well it broke the shelf, because everything is made of millimeter thick particle board and there’s no way to put up proper shelves. Fuck it. I took that shelf out, as well as the even stupider shelf at the bottom which created a sort of inaccessible cubby that you might use to hide your weed if you were like 14 and really dumb. Now all my clothes are rolled in carefully labelled (“soft pants, leggings, pajama pants”) giant ziplock bags and I think this might actually work. Or work as well as a 7′ tall 12″ wide space without shelves can ever work, anyway.