I’m sitting on my back deck peeling a rutabaga.
The sun is thin and anorexic, the air nippy and nagging, and a smeary line of chemtrails are slowly churning in my direction.
I can’t stand it.
I’m ready to head to warmer climes, dreaming of hot sweaty sun and bleached beaches and itching to get on the road to Anywhere But Here.
But alas the RV will stay parked, tucked under its carport alongside the garage for a little while longer.
In the meantime I’m perusing the State Park reservation system for random camping dates in summer – my perennial pastime in the throes of January. And the RV & Boat show is coming up next week to further feed my jones for the open road in a conveniently packaged condo with wheels.
Spring has to be around the corner? Please.