Like Clockwork

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[1]. 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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[1] 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.

Posted in: Dear Diary

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