16

 I was up early to try to shower, but Aaron was also up early and had to use the bathroom.

Enjoy this truly terrible representation of the VIP bathroom.

The black spot is a place to sit and wait for him while he's busy.

So because we had a timeline, I showered in my underthings, wedged against the North wall for a tiny bit of privacy while he used the bathroom.

Then he parked over at the sink to brush his teeth while I dressed.  There is no shower curtain, so privacy is a delicate dance.

Back at the tent, I drank my jar coffee and neatened up the campsite a little.  Pounce and Scrunt supervised from their sun porch.

A woman stepped a little hesitantly into our yard area smiling at the cats.

"They're very friendly," I told her, sipping my cold moon-brewed coffee.

"What is in the jar?" she asked.  I explained my coffee process to her, delighted she seemed impressed.  We chatted about camping, and I showed her around our little site, explaining our set up.  Two bins for my kitchen, one for food, one for dishes and tools.  Orgalorg the screen tent.  The sun room and its tarp floor.  The little AC that doesn't always keep it cool, but keeps it from being dangerously hot.  She told me I was an expert and that she was not set up nearly so well.  

I told her we started out a little rough, telling her the story of having to inflate Aaron's bed each morning to get him back into his chair.

She laughed and was glad we have cots now.

She was there camping with her adult daughter and her little grandson, his first trip!  How fun!  

Aside from the parts that suck because we have to camp, I love camping.  The kids seem to enjoy parts of it too.  It might be nice to do again, as a vacation, someday.  I know I would enjoy it.

My cot has blue sheets, Aaron's has pink.  We're smooshed together in an L.

I set my coffee jar up at bedtime and usually leave it on the fire pit overnight.  By morning it's dark and rich, cooled by dew.

Rundes arrived a little early, with her son to stay behind in case the caregivees needed some help.  It took about an hour to get to the little house we were touring.

Friends, I love it.  It's a little mid century bungalow ranch creature, with a facade made of the sandstone I have always dearly loved on buildings around the Cities (including Fort Snelling).

It is at the high range of our Section 8 limit.  And I still need to send in our application and fees ($50 short, but I figure I can send in Joey's and my applications first.)

I'll admit $150 is an intensely painful amount to spend on an application fee for people in our situation, and I'll reach out to social workers Monday to see if help exists for that.  And many, many places are charging $75 per adult.  Plus we still need to sort out a deposit.

We finished our tour, thanked the personable landlord, and headed back to camp.  The map app on Rundes' phone took us through all the back roads to get there.  

We sat at the campsite and chatted for a while, until the rain came in.  They'd brought us a hard sided cooler no Chonkalonk cat can crush, and filled it with ice, so I got the rest of the money I'd tried to hoard for a potential deposit, and replaced the groceries lost to the Case Of The Fat Cat Sitting On The Foam Cooler, and am hanging on to the last $100 for part of our application fees.

It rained the rest of the night.  We watched some Sweet Tooth and piddled around on our small machines.  I read Daughters Of Block Island, which has an interesting ghost that weeps arsenic tears.

Aaron had a very hard time sleeping due to the storms (again).  He ended up finally dozing with most of the cats laying on him.  After waking me no less than 6 times.

Here's hoping he sleeps in!