I meant to be blogging all summer long about our cross continental camper van journey in a 1991 Itasca RV complete two very noisy children, limited space, constant grime, a gas tank the size of my bladder and doors that continually swung open mid highway speed escalation. Somehow I could never get around to it and I couldn't figure out why. Certainly there was plenty to write about and most campsites these days (even national campgrounds) have some level of WIFI.
In between keeping the sand and dirty out of the camper van (a nearly full-time vocation), trying to find the soap, my underwear, the iPad, the keys...pretty much everything...every day from dawn to dusk felt gosh-darn full, even when we were driving along those straight ribbons of highway in South Dakota.
One way or another, no blogging got done. No novel writing got done. A facebook update every week or so was about all I could muster in between staring out the windscreen and staring straight into the faces of the three other members of my family who were in CONSTANT close proximity, especially since it decided to a particularly rainy summer in any part of the continent we happened to be in at any given time. The firepits at pretty much every campsite we tenanted went largely unused, not for wont of trying. Just as soon as we'd sit down at our picnic table to eat our delicious foil pack (how many foil packs can a family face?) or Kraft dinner or cans of beans, the rain would inevitably start and we'd scramble into Molly II into our muddy camper van castle and ensconce ourselves for the remainder of the thundery night.
Anyway, this is not a blog about our WONDERFUL (Honestly!) summer in the RV, but one about why I did not blog. I've only just now realized why that is: I ONLY blog in bed. If I could live in this bed and do absolutely everything here, I would. (If you haven't heard about my new Sofitel "My Bed" with a feather tick topper you don't know me very well at all or you haven't seen me in a long time.) I must admit that I even do my Pilates in bed, though I'm not exactly sure it can be considered exercise if you can do the whole thing from the comfort of your bed. Regardless, apparently there is no inspiration forthcoming unless I am at home. IN bed. MY bed.
Luckily, I am now home from our summer of camper-bound splendor so you will be reading plenty of nonsense from me, just like the good old days before the vacation started. My "new start every day" should probably be to try blogging from some other venue in the house, but I'm just not ready to make that commitment yet.
Remember that episode from Seinfeld when Kramer decided to do everything in his shower including prepare his food? Well, that's me and my bed. I'm in love. If I want to get anything done at all, it has to be from this command station. Just as soon as I post this, I'm off to do my exercises. In bed, of course.