Yesterday was a struggle getting everything from the trailer over to the cabin. I probably managed about half of it before calling it a day. The forecast looked great, so I wasn’t too worried about leaving the rest outside overnight. Most of the water-sensitive items had already been moved, so I figured I’d finish everything this morning.
As luck would have it…it rained.
Not just a passing shower—it rained most of the day.
So much for the weather forecast.
Fortunately, I’d prioritized the important items yesterday. Everything left outside got completely soaked, but nothing was damaged. The cardboard boxes were a mess, but the contents survived just fine.
Since the rain made hauling supplies across the bog nearly impossible, I decided to return the U-Haul trailer a day early and get that off my list. I drove down to Calais only to discover the rental office was…closed on Mondays.
No problem. I parked the trailer anyway.
Actually, I’m kind of proud of that part. The only available parking space was squeezed between one of their steel sign poles and another trailer, leaving maybe six inches of clearance on each side. It probably took me ten attempts, but eventually I backed that trailer perfectly into the spot. Sometimes persistence counts more than talent.
After unhooking the trailer, I headed to Walmart. Somehow the pillows and bed linens I’d left at camp last year had completely disappeared, so I needed replacements.
The morning had already delivered one surprise.
The groceries I’d brought into the cabin the night before were still sitting on the kitchen counter. Last year the mice practically owned the countertops after dark, so I fully expected to wake up to chewed-up food.
Instead…
Everything was untouched.
I was impressed.
Then I opened the sock drawer.
Apparently the mice had simply upgraded their accommodations.
They had built a luxury mouse condominium inside my dresser drawer using my socks and underwear as insulation. There was a huge nest, everything smelled awful, and the clothes had been thoroughly chewed into nesting material.
Needless to say, it was disgusting.
No clean socks.
No clean underwear.
Not exactly the welcome-home gift I had in mind.
After Walmart, I stopped by the lumberyard to order materials for the bog walkway.
Five minutes later…
“$1,500.”
That wasn’t quite the number I was hoping to hear.
The good news is they can deliver everything tomorrow.
Even better, my niece Jen, my nephew Austin, and their girls are hoping to visit camp this weekend. They even offered to help with the walkway project, so having the lumber delivered ahead of time works out perfectly.
Earlier in the day I also stopped at my favorite place, the Old School Family Restaurant, for breakfast.
I’ve learned something important about this restaurant.
Breakfast is outstanding.
Dinner…not so much.
So breakfast it was, and it was every bit as good as I remembered.
On the drive back I detoured past a house I’d seen online. Great price. Nice location. Definitely needs paint.
I never called the Realtor.
I’m sure Trudy will appreciate my restraint.
I also stopped by the post office to ask about getting a mailing address for camp. I’d like to join the local Nextdoor community, but you can’t do that without an address.
The postmaster looked at me like I had two heads.
Turns out, according to both AI and the State of Maine, the post office doesn’t assign addresses. That responsibility falls to the town. I’d emailed the town before coming north but hadn’t heard back, so I’ll stop in Wednesday when the tax collector is in town and see if we can finally get Camp Hidey Ho an official address.
By the time I got back to camp it was absolutely pouring.
I sat in the truck for a while just listening to the rain before finally making the soggy trek across the bog.
Thankfully, after another search through the cabin, I finally found my muck boots.
Huge improvement.
That also meant it was finally time to tackle the biggest battery—the 136-pound monster I’d been putting off.
I wrestled it into the wagon, dragged it roughly a quarter-mile across the bog, and finally got it installed at the cabin just as the battery I’d been using decided to give up.
Perfect timing.
My biggest luxury this year is also finally up and running—a six-cubic-foot refrigerator.
Compared to last year’s cooler full of melting ice and soggy food, this feels downright extravagant.
Dinner was fresh corn on the cob from the grocery store, followed by watching the Phillies.
They won.
A refrigerator, dry batteries, and a Phillies victory.
Not a bad ending to a rainy day.