From Sewage Duty to Social Media Debuts
I woke from my slumber at 6 a.m., not even remotely ready for the day. Thankfully, the dogs granted me a rare reprieve last night and didn’t invade my sleeping quarters—otherwise known as my recliner, aka my throne. Of course, the second my alarm went off, Odin decided it was his royal summons and climbed aboard like a furry alarm clock with paws.
Freya, however, was still lost in dreamland, which spared me from the usual morning tackle. That left me a few sweet minutes to shower Odin with undivided attention. He soaked it up, wagging and eyes grinning like he’d just won “Best Boy of the Year.”
As for me, I don’t recall if I dreamed at all, or if my night was just a blank rerun. I got home late, collapsed, and the world melted away the second I closed my eyes. Honestly, it was perfect—because after days of self-reflection and soul-searching (aka emotional CrossFit), I needed a reprieve. Nothingness felt like a spa treatment for my brain.
The day began with the usual rituals: coffee, feed the animals, walk the animals, and log into work. I was especially grateful to be remote today, since my soul required multiple puppy-snuggle breaks between Teams calls. At lunch, I reclined with the dogs again and thought, this is why I’m always covered in dog hair. Honestly, I should just market it as “bougie RV glitter.”
Then came the plumbing saga. My shiny new sink thingy-mabober arrived, and I had big dreams of hooking up the washing machine without hijacking my kitchen faucet every time. The first piece fit like a glove—no leaks, perfection. But when I tried to connect the washer, my multitasking fantasy crumbled. Didn’t fit. Surely one of the other attachments would work, right? Wrong. One by one, each piece mocked me. By the end, hope was melting faster than ice cream in Texas heat. What in the frickity frack, I thought loudly. Half a victory is still a victory, I told myself, before trudging back to work.
The afternoon spun me around in circles of reading and analysis until my head felt like I’d just stumbled off a carnival tilt-a-whirl. Thought work leaves you dizzy and with too many thoughts. Rewarding? Yes. Exhausting? Absolutely. What gave me a second wind was knowing my gaming family was waiting later. It’s wild that some of my most reliable friendships exist entirely online. We don’t know each other’s faces, but we know each other’s quirks, jokes, and midnight moods. They’ve been a steady anchor through some stormy seas, and in their own oddball way, they’re family.
When the workday finally ended, I loaded the dogs into the car for a quick trip—trash run and a stop at the front office. The neighbor’s German shepherd barked like we’d personally offended him, but aside from a whine from Freya and a quick zap zap reminder from me, my dogs handled it like the royalty they are. Back home, I rewarded them with dinner and enrichment toys, hoping to buy myself an hour of peace to wrangle the gaming family.
Instead of procrastinating, I decided to adult. I fired up the propane, cooked my hamburger patties to a juicy medium, toasted a low-carb bun, and slathered on guacamole and low-cal mayo. I added tomato slices, purple onion, and spicy chip pickles. One bite later—juices running down my chin, burger guts spilling out the sides—I knew I had created something glorious. For my “balanced” side dish, I grabbed a plum, which doubled as dessert. Dietitians everywhere would be so proud.
After dinner, it was time for the glamorous side of RV life: chores. First up, I emptied both the grey and black tanks—because nothing says “living the dream” like rinsing out sewage systems and giving the poop chute its moment to shine. With that royal duty handled, I turned to my next challenger: ants.
These six-legged squatters were trying to colonize not just my trailer, but also the gazebo, like tiny wannabe emperors. I could practically hear their queen barking orders, sending her generals to infiltrate one by one. It was a slow creep, a tactical maneuver—less invasion, more ant coup d’état. They thought they were being clever, sneaking in a little at a time to establish a base camp. But oh no, not today. Armed with peppermint spray and the righteous fury of a woman who just wanted to live her bougie RV dreams in peace, I unleashed holy war.
With the bug battles won and the tiny empire temporarily dismantled, I turned my paranoia toward propane. I shut off the main tank, then burned off the last whisper of gas through the stove, because yes—I have an irrational fear of my trailer suddenly going boom. Too many RV fire videos will do that to a person. While normal people end their nights with Netflix, my brain prefers late-night reruns of “Explosions You Definitely Don’t Need in Your Life.”
The gaming family, however, was suspiciously quiet. Our Canadian friend was surely passed out drooling (he’s old—we forgive him), and Auntie was probably mid-COVID nap, face-planted and snoring. Bored, I wandered the RV, then fiddled with a video app. To my delight, I made my first-ever social media video—voice-over, music, captions, the works. Was it good? Eh. But was it mine? Absolutely. I wanted to make another, but by the time I stopped tinkering, it was well past my old-lady bedtime.
I wrapped up the night with this blog, reclined in my chair under a fuzzy, lavender-scented blanket, while Odin and Freya glared at me from their own beds. I know—the nerve of me making them sleep in their own space. Their judgy eyes said it all: you’re the villain of this bedtime story, Mom.
Lessons of the Day
In RV life, a recliner is less “furniture” and more “time-share with paws.”
Dog hair isn’t mess—it’s evidence of true love with a side of static cling.
Thingy-mabobers come in every size except the size you’re looking for.
Analyzing and overthinking count as extreme sports, right?
Friends you’ve never met can still feel like family—and sometimes they’re the best kind.
“Living the dream” sometimes means wrangling the poop chute like it’s a rodeo event.
In RV life, it’s not “if” the ants come, it’s “how many battalions.”
Propane paranoia: because RV fire videos live rent-free in my brain.
Juicy burgers taste better when the tomato, onion, pickles, and guac all try to escape at once.
Dogs will always judge you for making them sleep in their own beds. Always.
