Trial run

Did a “driveway campground” campout last night.

Even though we’ve had the pop-up for over a month now we still hadn’t used it, per se. Not for lack of desire, rather it’s just been problems with scheduling and commitments. Last weekend was little Geoana’s (belated) birthday party, a very labor-intensive endeavor. The weekend before that, a church function. The weekend previous--well, you get the idea.

During this past week I decided to get the rig up on Saturday even if it’s only in the driveway. Sleeping one night in the thing might just give us the chance to see how things feel, what we need to buy and/or keep in the camper, and help prepare us for the maiden voyage.

We even let little Geoana have one of her friends over, although I realized a little too late that this might resemble more of a giggling-girl-slumber-party vibe than an actual campout (unless girl-dominant camping trips involve inane conversations and boy-bashing exchanges). I finally had to tell them, in loud and no uncertain terms, that if they didn’t quiet down they could leave the camper and head down to the basement. It worked.

Geogal joined me in this out of the house but-not-off-the-property overnighter. I full well expected her to enjoy the luxury of having the master bedroom all to herself but the girls persuaded her to slumber in our “tent with wheels.”

Once darkness fell and the girls got quiet it was time to allow Morpheus to do his thing. Not surprisingly it took me a while. Often does when I’m in a new or unfamiliar environment and other humans in close proximity (Geogal excepted) doesn’t help.

Start drifting off to sleep. Then I hear “tunk.....tunk.......tunk......tunk...tunk..tunk, tunk, tunk, TUNK.”

Raindrops.

I expected this. Been keeping my eye on the forecast since Friday. And Geogal (enjoying the driveway campground’s wi-fi) used her iPod Touch to access the weather info.

I remember reading what someone once wrote, somewhere, about how camping allows you to be lulled to sleep by the soundtrack of Mother Nature. Including rain. Rather than stress about the cloudburst I tried to use the rhythm as something relaxing. It worked.

Woke up some time later. Still dark. Still raining (although in a canvas-covered shelter even the smallest raindrops can sound menacing.

I’ve gotta pee.

Think about it for a while, then decide to do what’s best. I get up, reach over for Geogal’s purse (keys are on top and she locked the front door of the house). Try to exit without making much noise. Turns out when it’s raining you have plenty of external sounds to drown out your actions.

Go into the house, do my business, check clock in kitchen (3:30). Well, hey. At least it’s not 11:15 at night.

Return to camper. Geogal is up, waiting for me to return. Wanting to make sure everything’s all right (it is). I then proceed to knock over a small cup of water that little Geoana’s friend left near our water dispenser which just happens to be right next to my bunk. Oh, well. It’s a spill but not too much of one.

Then I try to fall asleep again. So does Geogal. She gets there before I do.

Then I knock over the water container. Spills all over the inside of the rig. Only now the camper seems to be much bigger than before. About the size of a small house. I mumble words that I won’t repeat here.

And then I woke up.

Much like a certain season of “Dallas,” it was all a dream. At least the massive amount of spilled water was. Just to be sure I glance over at the water dispenser. Safe and sound. Also has the lid screwed tightly on top. Geogal’s snoozing away. So are the little ones. I close my eyes and think of pleasant things.

Wake up. It’s lighter now. Yet I don’t know what time it is because my clock radio with the large numerals (I’m nearsighted) is nestled away on my nightstand in the master bedroom. I don’t have my cell phone in the camper. And Geogal’s iPod Touch? I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for it. No matter.

I do some more dozing. More dreams, but none involve liquids. Open my eyes again. Daylight. No rain. Quiet. Peaceful.

Nice! So this is one of the reasons people camp.

I take a few minutes to just enjoy the atmosphere. Then I sit up, get my coffeemaker ready (brought it in from the kitchen before hitting the hay). A few more minutes, I’m enjoying fresh-brewed java in the cool of the morning.

Very nice.

I savored the time before the realities of Sunday morning forced me out of the camper and into the house for shaving, showering, dressing, and making sure everyone else is up in time to get to Sunday school and church service.

Yep, I think we’re ready to take the camper somewhere.