I took some vacation days off of work to turn this weekend into a 5-day vacation (Friday through Tuesday). The plan was to go camping at the coast. We made our reservation months ago. We made some last minute acquisitions earlier in the week (we were lacking in the lantern and water jug department). I got myself a topo map of the area. We were set to go.
Half-way through the day on Thursday, I had to leave work early, due to a stomach illness. Friday (the day we were supposed to leave at noon), I was lying down all day. By midday Saturday, I was starting to feel much better — able to leave the house, even — and began to cobble together possible plans to salvage the vacation weekend with Kim. There was no way we’d get our campsite, since we had missed the check-in deadline, but what about a trip to the coast of a different sort? A night or two at a bed and breakfast? A day trip to the aquarium? The cheese factory? The beach?
Of course, Saturday was the day Kim started to feel sick. That is the way things operate around here: one of us recovers just in time for the other to get sick. It works out nicely, though. She was caring for me when I was sick and now I’m caring for her. As awkward as the timing may be, it makes being sick pleasant (well, less-unpleasant) for the both of us.
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 In Oregon, and possibly elsewhere in the country these days, you often have to make camping reservations up to 6 months in advance. Now that anyone with a web browser can reserve a spot, the days of just driving out to the campsites on a whim and finding a spot are long gone. It used to be that if a popular site was full, the ranger would radio a lesser known campground a few miles down the road and find out for you that they had available space. Now, when one is full, they’re all full.