Page 13 of Any Second Now
The mattress is about two inches thick and feels like sleeping on a hay bale.
It’s twenty years old.
The Pink Palace seems like an appropriately sarcastic name for it. I even cross-stitched an eight-inch hoop with the name to hang above my kitchen sink.
This is my super-organized mom’s nightmare for me. A poorly planned sabbatical and an impulsive RV purchase, although that last part’s not really true. She just thinks it is because I never shared my planning spreadsheet with her.
But as for what to do with these eight weeks? Yeah, I don’thave a spreadsheet for that. I wanted to make one after my sabbatical got approved, but I tried to hold myself back. I’m trying to convince myself I don’t need a spreadsheet for every single freaking thing in my life.
The shock on my poor mother’s face when she saw the Pink Palace parked in my driveway the day before I left and she came to say goodbye? Priceless, yet also left me feeling guilty. I don’t want to stress her out, but I need to get away from everything for a while.
Alas, this was Jacob’s dream, not mine, and I’ve driven past every state park on the map instead of checking out national landmarks and beautiful scenery. What, I’m going to go for a hike by myself and fight off bears and mountain murderers?
I left Connecticut two weeks ago and I’m already done with the RV life.
I’m sleeping in a giant tin can at night and during the day, driving way slower than the speed limit, mostly because I’m terrified of high winds and changing lanes and anything else involving me and my SUV pulling the Pink Palace—a medium sized RV trailer—on highways.
Small towns are even worse. I can’t parkanywhere.
At least I belong here in the RV campsite.
And now, I’m sitting in the front seat of my car, re-reading the directions on how to dump the sewage tank. I’ve done it many times before. Learning how to back up this damn contraption so that the RV’s sewage tank is as close to the dump hookup as possible has been hard enough.
But actually emptying the tank? Nightmare.
“Damn.” I guess it’s now or never. I hop out of my car and something from the edge of the treelike scatters off into the woods. A bird? A dog? A bear?
“Hello?” I peak over toward the rustle of leaves, but it falls silent.
Then the smell hits me, and all thoughts of whatever was inthe woods disappear. It’s a nauseating aroma, which makes sense—this is where all of us suckers dump the literal shit from our vehicles. I almost gag, then pull it together when a couple with a dog walks by and stares at me. Judging me for my surely obvious incompetence, probably.
“Need any help?” the woman calls out with a friendly wave.
“Nope. All good here!” I infuse insane cheer into my voice, as if I’d not do anything to be staying at a hotel where I can just flush the contents of the toilet, not have to pump it out.
They move on as I connect the nasty sewer hose to my RV’s drain valve. This time Idogag and concentrate on breathing through my mouth and keeping the cereal I ate this morning inside of my stomach.
I open the black water tank valve and let it start to flow. There are two tanks. The gray tank holds water from the sink, shower, etc. The black tank holds the nasty stuff. I watch the flow of the waste to clock when it goes clear.
New cross stitch idea:Divorce is like emptying the sewage tank from an RV.
Nah. Too long. Stitching all those words would take for-freaking-ever.
Marriage is like an RV sewage tank: unpleasant and smelly?
Still too long, and not catchy at all. I’ll have to noodle on it.
Driving an RV might be better if I had company. Like a friend. Or a cat. Not a boyfriend, or, god forbid, a husband.
I’m never getting married again.
Never dating again.
The water is running clear, so I close the gross black tank valve and open the gray water tank, which flows through and rinses the pipe.
I let out a deep breath and close my eyes, careful not to breathe in through my nose. I need a shower. There’s a real one in this RV park, and I can’t wait to use it, as well as the real bathroom.
“Raleigh?” A male voice calls.
