I got a small red binder in hopes that I could fill it with lists, and thus organize my life. One of this lists was, “Ideas for blog posts.” All my blog post ideas were lists.
You know, like, “five movies that have amazing fashion.” Or, “my ten weirdest recurring dreams.” But my last post was a list post, and I just wrote an article for Ypulse that was a list article (not published yet, in case you go looking for it and it proves fruitless) and frankly, I am sick of lists.
The logical thing to do would be to go back to the tried and true method of writing about my fascinating life. During the school year this involves things like theater and interesting people and fascinating tidbits learned in class. But now that it is summer, life is…less fascinating. Still, maybe I should post about it after all. Okay. Here we go.
I love sunrises in theory. When I was sixteen I accidentally woke up early and saw the most beautiful sunrise. Since then, whenever I have gotten up early to watch it, it has always been invisible due to the cloud cover.
Last night the sky was perfectly clear, and so I thought, “Why don’t I wake up early and go watch the sunrise?” I set my alarm clock for a little after five am.
When my alarm rang, there was some brilliant orange in the east, the beginning of a stellar sunrise. I got up, wrapped the blanket around me, and went downstairs. I spent some time making myself cereal and tea, and then went on the porch to watch and eat.
What do you know. By the time I made it to the porch a long thick cloud had gathered on the eastern horizon, and there was no more sunrise. Bah. Some other day, perhaps. I ate my breakfast while shivering violently, and then went back to bed.
Once I had actually woken up for good I began the daunting task of digging the nails and rocks and pine seeds out of the cracks in the porch. While I dug I smelled something…an oddly familiar scent that I couldn’t quite place. I sniffed and sniffed, and then it hit me. I was smelling Hansie-smell.
Hansie-the-dog died in November 2010. Almost two years ago. His hair is still in the cracks of the porch. I found that beyond gross. Then I thought, “why is it so much grosser if the hair is from a dead dog than from a live dog? The hair itself isn’t any different.” I still don’t know the answer, but it just is grosser.
Last weekend I went to a church camp in John Day. This wasn’t cabin camping, this was real camping, with tents, no electricity, and no cell service. I love nearly everything about that kind of camping. I love how the food always tastes better, how the world could be ending and you wouldn’t have to know about it till you went home, how you can’t shower but it doesn’t matter because no one else can shower either and you’re outside all the time. But there is one thing I don’t like about camping: I always freeze at night and the lumpy ground is both cold and uncomfortable. In short, I can’t sleep.
However, this weekend I discovered something potentially life-changing. Most camping trips require you to drive to the camp site. Thus, there is no need to spend the night trying to sleep on the cold lumpy ground. You can sleep in the car!
I slept both nights in the car. It was glorious. Soft and warm. There was even this emergency blanket in the glove compartment. It looked like a giant piece of tin foil, but I had it sitting on the seat beside me, and if I got cold in the night I just spread it over me. This would never work in a tent because it rattled and rustled like crazy and would wake everyone up, but in the car I was all alone and no one could hear.
You can call me a prissy wimp if you like, but I’ll just laugh it off because I’ll be in a good mood because of my good night’s sleep.
(It is true that some people may have trouble sleeping in the car, but I find myself sleeping in cars almost as often as I sleep in beds. Maybe not. But I have taken many many naps in cars during my college career.)
Now, my slice of life post has ended. Tune in sometime soon for another.