sleep.

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Sleep is wonderful and good. It is even better when you get a full night of it. Since moving into the little trailer I have yet to experience a full night of good, wonderful sleep.  

The first night I was pretty stoked. The air was thick and the Christmas lights made my new home glow, putting my imaginations work to reality. The fan was cranked, the birds were chirping, and in my hand was a cold can of ginger cider. Life was beautiful.

Eventually, my energy simmered and into sleep I went.

Around 4 a.m. I awoke to what sounded like a little girl screaming. Being startled and half awake, I wondered if an exorcism was happening. Seeing the movie trailer for that movie gave me goose bumps, but the thought of that little girl standing outside of my trailer was worse than a nightmare. Finally, coming to enough sense, the voice sounded more like a cat meow than a little girl. “Right,” I thought to myself, “the cat is still outside.” Thank God.

Standing up to let her in, it hit me that I absolutely had to go to the bathroom. Feeling a bit like a pinball while searching for my shoes, sweatshirt, flashlight, and glasses, I made the executive decision that slippers would be enough. The rapid flee to the washroom happened in record time. This would be the first time I’d used this specific washroom. 4 a.m. was the perfect time to realize there was no toilet paper, paper towels, soap or anything. “No big deal,” I told myself, this is what roughing it is all about.

Running back across the lawn, the huge holes in the toes of my wool slippers became enemies as the damp grass saturated them. Not in such a hurry, I also noticed the beautiful sunrise and the goose bumps on my arms. Quickly, I stumbled over Jinx to find my bed ready to top off the morning with a few more hours of cozy sleep. And there I lay at 4:30 a.m., wide-awake with soggy toes, shielding my eyes from the sun.

Yes, I blame the cat for this one too. 

 

snails.

Memory 1: Way back in my childhood days when I found a worm on the road, I would pick it up and kiss it. Maybe I would carry it with me, or possibly return it to 'safe ground.' Whatever my motivations were, nowhere in my memory is any recollection of reasoning behind my actions.

Memory 2: One summer day while at the cabin, I woke up to screaming. Screams means panic. Screams are not funny. Especially when the scream is coming from is your mother, saying something along the lines of, "Why are there SNAILS in my KITCHEN!!!" Oh boy, just typing this still makes me laugh out loud. My mother ABSOLUTELY HATES slugs. Snails are equal to slugs in her eyes.

The previous day, Stacy and I had the grand idea of making a home for a little tribe of snails. We found a bucket for making sand castles and spiffed it up a bit with dirt, leaves and twigs. Not wanting anything to happen to the snails we innocently brought them into the cabin for a sleepover. Of course, we didn't think that snails would want to escape the walls of the castle. But they did, right into my mom's kitchen.

I bring up these memories because I have been running around town. My favorite loop is along a road I call 'the horse and cow road.' The view is so spectacular that it is easy to become lost in the low hanging clouds scattered around the mountains or the the colorful patchwork of trees lining the lake. Once in awhile, especially after a rain, I become distracted by the snails on the road (the snail population increases ten fold). The number of snails terrifies me. I fear my neon running shoes will unintentionally crush one. But I have yet to see a crushed snail and am starting to think that snails have anti-smashing force fields - or drivers are equally as cautious as me.

So last week I was feeling happy when I arrived back at my trailer until I looked down at my front step and saw for the first time, a crushed snail.

Can I blame the cat? 

cat.

Moving to Sorrento, BC I could hardly wait to live in a camping trailer. Simplicity? Adventure? Twinkle lights? Warm summer nights? Absolutely! The trailer was not quite ready upon my arrival, so for the past month Jinx and I have been living on the second level of an old house, in a shared living situation. The rooms sit above a few offices, and a conference room.

Not long after we settled in a couple of the teenagers working for the summer arrived. Company was nice, and socializing timid Jinx was fun. Throughout the day I would hear little comments and exclamations such as, "cat! get out of my room!" or, "ugh, CAT outta my way!" Usually, this was followed by Jinx making a mad dash, sliding across the hardwood floors back into my bedroom.

Jinx was going a little stir crazy being locked inside. She was used to wandering the streets of Victoria, or mouse hunting the woods of Alaska. Dodging feet and playing with pine beetles was the most she could do to entertain herself. So, Thursday when we finally made the much anticipated move to the trailer she could hardly wait to explore the great outdoors.

The morning I let her outside I propped the trailer door open so she knew she was welcome back inside. I was half focused on studying when the sound of her bell (a requirement to warn birds) was rapidly growing louder. This meant one of two things:

1. A bear, wolf, or some creature was chasing her and she needed to be rescued ASAP 

OR

2. She caught a mouse. The mouse was still alive. She wanted to play with the mouse in the trailer.

Looking up, into her eager and proud face, I saw the plump rodent in her mouth and knew she had no plan to stop at the doorstep. Scrambling to get to the door before Jinx was not an easy feat, but I managed just in the nick time. The cat sat on the front step for a few minutes before realizing entering was not an option, so under the trailer she went.

After a few minutes curiosity got the better of me. I opened the door to see what she was up to only to see her bounding toward me once again, with another mouse. Slam! I shut the door and stared through the screen. A minute later she had another!

I am kind of proud.