jump to navigation

A Necessary Necessary November 20, 2012

Posted by nrhatch in Food & Drink, Humor, Magick & Mystery.
41 comments

A Terrible Horrible Awful Very Bad Day continues . . .

Back at the van, BFF emptied his pockets.  His wallet, and everything in it, was a salty soggy mess.

“See!  This is why I’m not a fan of lounging on the beach.  Everything ends up sticky, salty, soggy, and/or sandy.”

“Yeah, but how cool is it that a wave came out of nowhere? Without anyone seeing it coming . . . or going?” 

He grunted his reply.  

“Look, let’s get cleaned up, find something to eat, and make the best of the rest of the day.”

A stone’s throw away, we found a small seafood restaurant with outdoor seating that looked promising.  The food was good, if a bit pricey, and the sun felt great.  Our moods started to improve.  

Between fries, BFF said, “Sorry I snapped at you like that.” 

“It’s okay.  It’s been a strange day.  How could a wave that size sneak up on us . . . without anyone noticing?  Its appearance and disappearance defies explanation, logic, and reason.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would think that that rogue wave targeted us specifically, and then vanished into thin air.”

Hmm . . . that’s a thought.  

As we walked back to the van, the rains came. 

Of course. 

More water.  More soggy wet clothes.  Twice dampened spirits.  

We began to see a theme.

But the day wasn’t done with us yet.  Far from it. 

A few miles into the trip, as BFF drove, cramps flooded my gut.  Nausea washed through me in waves.  Audible groans filled the air.   

BFF deduced that lunch was not agreeing with me.  No shit, Sherlock!  

Sweating, and doubled over in pain, I crawled into the back of the van to lie down on the fold-out sofa.  From there, still sick to my stomach, I headed for the small on-board bathroom.  

Once upon a time, before the advent of indoor plumbing, our ancient brethen referred to the privy chamber as “the  necessary.”  For good reason.  

At times, such as this, a  necessary is very necessary, indeed.

After lunch beat a hasty retreat, I limped back to the sofa and slept the rest of the way home.  

By the time we drove up our driveway an hour later we both regretted the decision to head to the beach.  We carted the sticky, salty, sandy, and soggy  remains of the day into the mudroom, in silence, and went our separate ways.

But the day wasn’t done with us yet.

A Terrible Horrible Awful Very Bad Day concludes with . . . The Sand Causes The Pearl.