Tomorrow morning I am leaving for an overnight camping trip. We've had a pretty busy summer, and school starts up again in 1.5 or 2.5 weeks, depending on where Carlie goes, which is still up in the air. So this will be our last outing for the summer. I wish it were something a little less camping-ish than camping. But whatever. There will be beer and oysters and s'mores, so I can't complain too much.
We went camping a couple of weeks ago and I didn't say much about it because it was pretty uneventful, wherein uneventful = I wasn't crying and gnashing my teeth to get home, but when it was time to go home I was pretty happy to get on with it.
So Carlie and I happily hopped in the car while Tim locked up the trailer. We are in the car, motor running, ready to pull forward through the gate to the street, waiting for Tim, and yay, we give a little cheer when Tim finally gets in the car and, BOO-YAH WE ARE GOING HOME, where there is soap and towels and the internet, you know, civilization.
We're sitting in the RUNNING car, about to PULL FORWARD TO THE STREET, when a huge ass 18-wheeler comes barreling up that very small two-lane rustic road. He passes our property, brakes, and backs up. And then the dumb ass cracker mo fo pulls into OUR DRIVEWAY which is made of LOOSE ASS GRAVEL with his GIANT 18 WHEELER and blocks my car in on our OWN PROPERTY.
He gets out of his truck, asks if we are address WHATEVER and we are not, so he gets in his truck and backs out to the road, unblocking our path, and then we merrily cruised home.
He gets out of his truck, asks if we are address WHATEVER and we are not, so he gets in his truck and ATTEMPTS to back out to the road, but only succeeds in DIGGING GIANT RUTS into the LOOSE ASS GRAVEL DRIVEWAY until he is finally and irrevocably STUCK in our driveway BLOCKING US IN as we are trying to go home.
(Insert 45 FUCKING MINUTES of wheel spinning, truck cargo removing to lighten load, shovel digging around the wheels and "huh, go figure, this has never happened to me before" in lieu of an apology.)
Eventually (45 FUCKING MINUTES LATER) the truck was able to exit our driveway, at which time we (where in *we* is *Tim*, as if you didn't know that) were then able to spend another 15 minutes raking gravel and recreating the now destroyed driveway to the best of Tim's ability while I sit in the car honking the horn saying SCREW THE DRIVEWAY, LET'S GO HOME.
So, yeah. We're going camping. Again. Pray for me.