It is 70 degrees in here, with no heat on. It is a beautiful day here in the land of kamping. As much as I want to play in the dirt, I have restrained myself to take care of the necessities that opening the store brings.
I swept, vacuumed, mopped and dusted. Made notes of what needs paint and lists of merchandise to be bought. I treated myself to being outside to clean up the front of the building. Did I know that there was still some Christmas decor still there? No, but it is gone now. Did I remember placing that pumpkin on the end of the front covered porch? No, Maybe I was hoping it would cure like gourds do and I would have a novelty to brag about.
Just so you know, that didn't happen. It rotted and is now lounging in the compost bin, where it will germinate and I will have a pumpkin vine that rivals the bean pole Jack climbed to meet the Giant. Unlike the seeds I carefully planted that produced nothing.
Betwixt and between all this I answered phones, gave directions and planned my Easter feast to be shared with friends. Oh, and I tried to keep He Who has a primary job of owning a kampground on task. That was the hard part. I would rather shovel rock.
I am not naive enough to think my floor would remain clean. Most people see the wet floor and apologize for walking in. They stay carefully on the rug that leads you straight to the check-in counter. I truly appreciate this consideration ......
I was changing mop water when I heard the buzzer and called out to let the customer know I would be right there. I entered to see a man that I recognized instantly. I have mentioned him before, but am too lazy to link to that post. He is the burly, poorly groomed bear of a man who made me uncomfortable whenever I was alone and he came into the store. He is one of those men who like to intimidate women by getting way too far into their space. He treats his wife like a piece of crap and I don't like the man. At all.
"Do you recognize me?" he says. "I cut my hair." As if he were a candidate for Hoda and Kathie Lee's makeover, he preens in front of me. I reply that he does look familiar, lest he think that I had been longing to see his face. He wants to fill some LP tanks, so I call He Who does that and he decides to enchant me with his great knowledge of what I need to do to be a better kampground. I already don't like him and if he thinks I value his opinion, he is mistaken. Bad enough he is ticking off suggestions on his fingers, but he is literally marching on my freshly mopped floor with his mud encrusted boots. I suggest to him that he may wait outside in the fresh clean air and that He Who is my husband will be with him momentarily.
It is at this point that I realize I am not exactly looking forward to a whole new season of this. Am I burned out before it has even begun?