Coffee, Chaos, and Raccoons
Last night I fell asleep on my bed with the stargazing window wide open, watching the sky melt into the silhouette of trees. It felt peaceful, magical even. But when I opened my eyes this morning, I wasn’t met with the sunrise—nope, instead I found myself staring directly into the round, curious face of a chubby raccoon.
We froze. Both of us. Just two creatures of the early morning, locked in a silent standoff. The only thing moving was his little nose and twitching whiskers as he sniffed the air. Then, of course, my dogs noticed the uninvited guest. Within seconds, they went full DEFCON 4, barking their furry little heads off. The raccoon, wisely, disappeared in a blur of fur and speed. The dogs, however, wanted blood (or at least the chase).
Once I zapped them back to blessed silence, I did what any sane person does at 5 a.m.—brewed myself a cup of sweet, caffeinated bliss. The world was quiet again, and I was ready to watch the morning unfold around me. For a moment, it felt like it was just me, my dogs, and the stillness of the world waking up.
But peace doesn’t last long when you’re me. I suddenly remembered my boss lady was coming over to see the new digs, and my home was still in “chaotic hoarder” mode. This was not going to be her first impression of my new life. Coffee in hand, I decided today was the day to transform from clutter queen to at least somewhat respectable adult.
So, I took the dogs outside to start the day—and immediately regretted it. At five in the morning, Texas greeted me with a suffocating wall of heat and humidity so thick my pores opened instantly and waterfalls of sweat started pouring down my face and back. Really, Texas? At 5 a.m.? What kind of wicked witchery is this?
The dogs, meanwhile, were in heaven. Every smell was brand-new, every sound a mystery, and every tug on the leash a test of my patience. After recalling them and bringing them to “place” to reset, I promised them proper outdoor adventures once the chaos of unpacking was under control.
As I unpacked my fairies and minerals/rocks, I couldn’t help but think about all that I left behind to move toward this “minimalist” lifestyle—or let’s be real, sort of minimalist. I’m still a bougie queen, after all I do have a portable dishwasher and washer and dryer hehe. Getting here has been a journey of heartache and trauma, but I’m determined to make this adventure worth everything I gave up.
Next, I tackled the mysterious new gadget that might just be the love of my life: my countertop compact dishwasher. Absolute genius. And the best part? It came in my favorite color—like it was destiny.
Later, my boss lady arrived. She hiked all the way out here to see the new digs, and being the amazing person she is, she jumped right in to help. We tackled the gazebo that TikTok swears can be set up in five minutes by one person. Lies. Maybe if that one person is tall, strong, coordinated, and part acrobat, but definitely not me. Thankfully, with her extra set of hands, the beast of a gazebo finally came together.
Then came the outside dog fence—another TikTok influence. Yes, I got influenced again. Don’t judge me. The fence itself is awesome (and expensive), but the entrance door? Super weird. It has latches—plural—and not the kind you can easily manage with your hands full. Maybe a coordinated, non-lupus-having individual could master it, but for me, it’s awkward. Still, overall, not a bad find.
Once things were set up, I let the fur babies outside to enjoy their new kingdom. They were practically vibrating with excitement—noses glued to the ground, tails wagging, drinking in every new scent. I swear they can smell every pine tree, critter, and hidden story in this place. The air even smells different here—cleaner, fresher, almost enchanted.
Our little walk quickly turned into a manners test (which they failed, miserably). Clearly, it’s time to bring back the no-pull collars before I end up being dragged face-first into a tree.
After the chaos, sweat, unpacking, and projects of the day, I decided to treat myself with a little nostalgia. I resubscribed to the game that first introduced me to the magic of online worlds: World of Warcraft. It’s been years since I last played, and let me tell you—the controls feel strange, my memory of how to play is foggy at best, and it’s going to take some serious getting used to. But there’s something comforting about logging back in, even if I’m running around like a confused noob again. The world feels familiar, yet brand new at the same time.
Honestly, it feels a lot like RV life—so many buttons, so many “oops” moments, and me constantly asking, why is this happening? Just like figuring out my hitch, my dishwasher, or the weird fence latches, relearning WoW is going to take patience, humor, and probably a few epic fails along the way.
The day ended late as I sat trying to figure out how to create a website to post my stories. My soon-to-be ex always handled the techy stuff, so here I am—clueless but determined. Just another learning curve on this journey. The dogs and I sat outside listening as the woods slowly quieted, like even the critters knew Monday was coming and it was time to rest. It’s so dark and still out here, the kind of quiet that almost hums in your ears, but the air was still thick with humidity, making even late-night air hard to enjoy. So, inside I went, researching swamp coolers until I found one that looked promising. With any luck, it’ll be the saving grace that makes sitting in the gazebo bearable without melting into a puddle.
Lessons of the Day
Raccoons make the weirdest alarm clocks.
Dogs can smell trouble before I even see it.
Coffee is the true MVP of mornings.
Texas heat doesn’t wait for the sun.
Minimalist doesn’t mean giving up sparkle—fairies and rocks still count.
Gadgets in your favorite color are basically fate.
TikTok influencers lie (looking at you, gazebo crew).
Dog fences are great—until you need both hands free.
Blogging and websites are just another adventure in patience and persistence.
A swamp cooler may just be the hero of Texas nights.
