You are looking at Bossy’s view from a shady picnic bench which overlooks the camp office which overlooks Lake Champlain which overlooks a line of mountains whose job it is to interfere with Bossy’s internet service. Or at least that’s how it feels to Bossy, who has spent more time today knocked offline than on — but who is Bossy to complain except a lowly blogger who used to poke fun at people who need vacation connectivity.
So here’s the story in a nutshell, emphasis on nut and the straightjacket with Bossy’s name embroidered on the lapel: Bossy is camping in Vermont.
This year Bossy could not secure a pop-up trailer sponsorship, and so Bossy and her husband rented a pop-up trailer even though Bossy was all, “What if the last person to use it parked the thing under a Ginkgo tree?” And to make matters more unsettling, Bossy’s Honda can’t tow the weight of a pop-up trailer and the family bikes and the family booze and the family, and so the pop-up trailer needed to be rented from a location close to the campground so they could deliver it.
The problem with this plan was that the delivery of the unit would happen while Bossy was still driving driving driving to Vermont, which meant putting someone else in charge of the placement of the pop-up trailer on the site, a notion that was giving Bossy and her husband fits, where Bossy and her husband equals OK really it was just Bossy.
And so Bossy and her family arrived at the campground and the first thing Bossy noticed were huge ruts no doubt made by a behemoth mobile home that was situated on Bossy’s site prior to the delivery of the pop-up trailer.
Bossy knows it’s difficult for you to see the magnitude of the ruts from the above photo, just like it was difficult for Bossy’s husband to see the magnitude of the ruts while standing there staring at them, but trust Bossy: they were deep and annoying.
And so Bossy went about collecting photographic evidence to be used in the eventual divorce proceedings:
Here Bossy sits an entire gas can into one of the ruts. An. Entire. Gas. Can. See?
But that wasn’t the only problem. The main issue was that the pop-up trailer wasn’t positioned in the right spot, and therefore allowed no grace between the canopy of the trailer and the screen house and yes Bossy just used the word grace associated with sleeping outside and pooing in a communal bathhouse.
The problem was that Bossy’s pop-up had been plunked down in the very rear of the campsite:
And so Bossy’s husband decided to move the pop-up trailer, and when Bossy says Bossy’s husband decided really she means Bossy decided for him.
The pop-up trailer’s chain was hooked to the Honda’s something or other and it was Bossy’s job to jump into the driver’s seat and delicately inch the trailer forward while her husband shouted orders Bossy couldn’t hear because she was too busy applying lipstick.
The plan eventually worked, and they managed to reposition the pop-up trailer without dropping the Honda’s transmission into one of the tire ruts, and all was peaceful at Camp Bossy.
Finally, before resuming today’s camping adventure, Bossy would like to thank all of the participators in her latest Match Game giveaway, and to announce the winner of the pile o’ swag crap: congratulations to KM!