Not every day is one to look forward to.
This one started with a dog barking, “woof, woof, woof,” over and over again.
I’m lying there thinking of my to-do list, already knowing that chore day is not my favorite.
Part of me felt sorry for the dog because the mornings had just started to be cold. The other part of me wanted to go ask the dog’s caretaker how they can stand the insistent begging from the dog, who obviously is saying, “Let me in, it’s cold out here, and I want to snuggle.”
It must be a large dog because it has a deep voice. Soon, all the little RV dogs chimed in with their yappy barks. It was like one of those alarm clock tones on the iPhone that startles you awake.
Not a fan.
Yesterday was my favorite kind of day. Once a week, we try to take a Sunday drive—it could be a Saturday, or a Thursday. But it is always called our Sunday Drive—a tradition we have had for all of our married life.
I have mentioned before that we often find ourselves asking, “What is down that road?”
There are many roads in our journey. All have something interesting to see. Our list is filled with the biggest this, the smallest that, the deepest lake, the widest river, the tallest tree, the oldest canyon, or the newest adventure.
But today is chore day.
Wayne is doing laundry while I write. Then I will do the grocery shopping while he watches the first football game of the season for his beloved Denver Broncos. In the meantime, we have some reports to prepare for the mail tomorrow.
Necessary evils, I call them.
But every two weeks or so, our chores can be a new adventure. Will the laundry at the RV park destroy our clothes or leave dog hair on my black pants? Will the store have cilantro?
But it doesn’t have to be a dreaded day.
Sometimes food shopping is at a farmers’ market on the coast of Oregon. Laundry may be outside overlooking the vineyards of Napa Valley. The beauty of this life is that every little thing we do can be an adventure.
As for the dog, it stopped barking and is probably curled up on the bed, dreaming of squirrels and buried bones.
MORE ESSAYS BY SANDI:
- Trains were my father’s gift—and now they’re mine
- Downsizing for a 19-foot trailer and the adventure of a lifetime
- The art of socializing as an RVing introvert
- How RV life changed my definition of success
RVT1229
As I get older I get lazier and tired of doing chores.
I’m right there with you. That is why I try to make them fun when I can, or at least different. It is the mundane that bothers me the most. Your comment reminds me of when it came time to have Mom live in an assisted living facility. There was a big argument, of course, but what convinced her to move was that she no longer had to do laundry, cooking, or cleaning. Plus, she made a lot of new friends.
Hard work never killed anybody but why take a chance. Work excites me. I can sit and look at it for ever.
Denver won today so hubby should be happy!
It’s funny how chores at home are to-do’s worthy of procrastination yet chores in the RV are the first step to a new experience.
Disconnecting everything, pulling in slides, rolling up rugs, boxing StarLink and putting solar panels in their transport bay are all prerequisites to the journey of the day and the beginning of the new location’s experience.
What’s not to love!