Procrastination prompts creativity...

The microwave is still dead. I called the company about it, but they need the original bill of sale in order to process the warranty. I completely understand, however the original sales receipt is in the bike trailer an hour away from here and if my calculations are correct then the time taken to drive and dig inside the trailer then return home and call, combined with the gas said trip would take, factoring in the gas and time it will take to bring the microwave in to whatever warranty work service center they determine and the time that will take to complete all adds up to it's probably cheaper to just go and buy another microwave and install it instead. But those are just my initial calculations.
I paid our first electric bill for this campsite. It was....wait for it....$32.98. Wow, impressive. The manager thought perhaps our meter was off because it was so low to which I said, "Heck no it's not! I've sweated my a$$ off for it to be that low!" Maybe a bit meladromatic, but hey! Just another example of the greed that has consumed our world.
My husband commented yesterday how impressed he is that we do not eat out very often and how many leftovers we've had lately. My response was that it was only because he moved us into BFE and that there are no restaurants nearby for us to visit. It's literally thirty minutes to the nearest form of civilization, and by the time he gets home at night I just do not feel like traveling. Wow, am I getting old.
The issue with one toilet/bathroom is rearing its ugly head. With all four persons now toilet trained (mostly), it is inevitable that more than one person will need the facility at the same time. I'm sending them outdoors if at all possible. Just because you've moved up North doesn't mean you left "redneck" behind.
We have a new enemy here at Casa de Gypsy: the Afids. They are brown, crawly, and everywhere. I have no idea how they get in, but they do. They cling to the outside screens, which is kind of fun to flick or blow them off. But when they get in my house, it's a whole other ballgame. There was one in my pants leg the other day. I've never jumped out of my clothes so fast before. Good thing I was at the house at the time.  Teaches me to hang dry clothes outdoors. I suppose I should be grateful it was not a spider. Why in the world do I have to cats if they refuse to earn their keep and keep these irritants out?
My poor microwave. It's face is blank, free of those informative green numbers. It's literally like a black hole gaping above the stove. Now where did I put that number....

The new math: Information retention divided at double speed when added to one mother times (x) children...

I forget a lot now. I mean I was never savvy at the who memory thing, but at least I was smart. Before my children existed I was quite the thinker. Now I can only hope to remember where my shoes are, nevermind where my cell phone (that is always on vibrate) is located. It amazes me that our home, which has successfully been divided into a quarter the size it once was, can mysteriously hide anything I absolutely need to find. Maybe it's an epidemic. My husband is suffering the same ailment. Come to think of it, so are the kids. "Where are your shoes?" "I don't know." How, pray tell, can one not know where their shoes are in a house the size of a jello box? These are shoes, not atoms! But I digress.
Winter is approaching. We have been forced to use the heater on more than one occassion. The arrival of winter shall bring once again my nemesis: humidity. Steamy windows and sliding doors, if anyone let their mind wonder they could think all sorts of untoward things were going on in the ol' camper. No no, just me cooking. Or hanging clothes to dry. Or breathing...
Our microwave died. It's not even a year old and it decided that working for us was too much to bear and that it could no longer go on living. I need to dig out the warranty paperwork, but it is such a pain in the a$$...
I also still need to change our address in an "official" capacity, but that hasn't happened either.
There is a mini golf course at this RV park, which we finally went to play. One child bent down to retrive his ball at the exact moment his brother decided to putt his ball down the green. Needless to say there were tears and bruising, but no blood or lost teeth. I'd like to think the little one did it by accident, but I am beginning to know better...Albeit the hard way, the older brother learned not to put his head near the business end of a golf club...more to follow...
I feel like I'm forgetting something, something that I needed to do....Oh yes! Off to pick the child up from school, stay tuned!!!

Narcissism at its finest....

The Ultimate Pair of Narcissists

Dear Mother Nature:
I understand that, as a woman, you are flighty and feel the need to change moods at the drop of a hat. While I certainly sympathize with your plight, it would be greatly appreciated if once in a while you would not oh, let's say make it rain or drop fifty degrees on days we have motorcycle events scheduled. Icy wind in my nostrils, or rain bullets to the face, do not make my day enjoyable. I would also like to know that if I turn my heater on at night that it will not suddenly warm to 80 degrees at two am causing me to melt into my sheets. It would also be tremendously acceptable for you to figure out in the morning if you are going to change from one season to another rather than run the gamut of all four seasons between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm (and please only change to one season at a time). Again, female to female, I do not begrudge your list of duties day to day. I just would like for once to dress appropriately at all points during the day rather than fill my car with potential weather gear which alas, seems to be anywhere from swimsuits to snowshoes lately.
Very humbly yours,
A Weather-Weary Wife

Dear Father Time:
I am requesting time off for good behavior. During this time of recesss I request less lines etching themselves into my face and fewer age spots to make an appearance on my ever-elasticity losing skin. I am asking that the gray hair that replaces my once brown (okay, bleached blonde) strands take shorter strides in their jump to be seen as it is costing me more and more money at the hair salon to hide. I cannot continue to sink money into cosmetics which promise to aid my war against you and your minions who are increasingly outnumbering me in the battle. I'm beginning to reconcile that I will eventually lose this war. I understand that at present I live in a camper and normally people who do this are of, let's say, a more golden age. I, however, am not yet of the AARP variety and would greatly like to enjoy the last remaining minutes of my youth if at all possible. So please have a chat with your cousin Gravity and discuss the possibility of loosening his grip on my parts and allow them at least a fighting chance at remaining taught until the very last conceivable moment. I would also like to request a leave of absence in my battle of the bulge- I'm hungry and rice cakes don't cut it.
I appreciate your time and attention to this matter.
All the best,
A Moderately Managing Mommy