My camper office flooded. We’re in the midst of major thunderstorms on the heels of a terrible drought. I made it to my office around 5 p.m. between storms, stepped up into the camper, and felt the doormat squish under my feet. Not good.
We’re not entirely sure what happened, but the floor of the camper had a lot of standing water, which is really bad since almost everything in it is either wood, pressboard, or electrical equipment. I pushed up the platform that holds the bed and discovered water had breached our hatches, too. I ran inside for bath towels and the hairdryer, and we spent twenty minutes sopping up water and running the hairdryer along the seams of the cabinets. Just as we got things under control, another storm broke open and Rhonda had to run back to the house with the soaked towels.
We were under a tornado warning earlier and the rain’s been blowing sideways most of the afternoon, and it’s proven too much for the little camper. The noise in here is tremendous. Between the rain pounding on the metal roof and the thunder booming, I feel like I’m in a movie about a dumbass who uses a tiny camper for an office during a massive storm. I’m stuck now, not afraid, just a bit curious how this is going to unfold. The lightning and thunder are almost constant, and we got word that Rhonda’s dad’s house in Alabama has some damage and the Subway up the hill from him had its windows blow out. The camper’s swaying as I type. This workday is better than a $5 mechanical bull ride. Yeehaw.
My book is progressing well, but the last few days have been rough and I haven’t met some of my writing goals. I lost an old friend this year, a close friend. We went to college together and met as teenagers. I’ve grieved her every day since she died this summer and was thinking of her on New Year’s Eve when I got the news that I was likely soon to lose another friend from college. None of this feels right or fair. Not that it would ever feel ok to lose friends, but they were so young. They had things to do and people who needed them.
My goal for tonight was a minimum of 1,000 words, but the storm is making things a little more challenging than I planned. I jammed a towel against the base of the door but I can already see water seeping in around it. There’s nothing quite like a Florida thunderstorm in a popup.
“It’s all part of the writing adventure,” she said, as thunder shook the camper and water pooled at her feet.
Song in my head: Drink A Beer by Luke Bryan