MOONLIGHT IN VERMONT, Part 3

The drive from the Love Nest to the nearest Vermont Village was a quiet one.  Since Google maps hadn't furnished street views for this area, I had no idea what to expect, but a childhood of reading National Geographic magazines had convinced me that our Vermont Village would be a lovely spot with colonial homes lining the streets, a courthouse square shaded by two hundred-year-old hardwood trees, and at least one white clapboard Congregational Church complete with steeple.   

Since this is Part 3, I'm sure you've already guessed that our Vermont Village had never been photographed for National Geographic.   So, just for a moment, imagine the worst small town in western Kansas or Oklahoma that you've ever driven through, take away the grain silos and BINGO!  You've just visited our VV.  From the filling station on the south to the grocery/fishing store on the north, the Village was depressed and depressing.  We had plopped down sizable bucks,  flown 2000+ miles and driven eight hours only to find we'd arrived in the anteroom of hell. 

Fortunately, the grocery/fishing store was still open so we rather tentatively walked in.  It certainly could have been worse and we found, mixed in with the fishing bait, licenses and lures, hardware items, anti-freeze and snow shovels, a pretty decent selection of cleaning items and groceries.  We quickly gathered up every Scrubbing Solution we could fine--the stronger, the better--then milk, bread, orange juice and coffee. As we turned toward the final aisle, we were stunned by an inordinately extensive selection of wine and frozen pizza.  Maybe, just maybe, this would prove to be only purgatory.

It was a fleeting redemptive thought, however, before I remembered we had also included sheets, mattress pad, pillow cases, etc...on our shopping list.  This was not the store nor the Village for those items.  So, downhearted but determined, we soldiered back to the Love Nest with our purchases.  We carefully placed our few items in the refrig avoiding the worst of the mold and began to study the bedding situation.

Much to our surprise, we found sheets tucked away under other items in a storage closet, but imagination or experience made me question their cleanliness.  We balanced the choices...dirty floor?  Dirty bed?  Dirty floor?  Dirty bed?  We gingerly held the sheets by their edges, placed them on the bed, washed our hands, poured the wine, devoured our small horde of SW Airlines peanuts and Plane Crackers and settled in for a long night.
   

  
 

 

MOONLIGHT IN VERMONT, Part 2

If BC is anything, he is relatively mild-mannered, and I felt strongly that the next few minutes would either prove or disprove that virtue because, oh heaven help me, he was at the door.  I stepped aside as  he walked in.  He was very quiet as his eyes flew over the room--very, very quiet and, perhaps, a bit tight-lipped besides.  This was his view from the door:

Even with my stubby little legs, five steps into the Love Nest and I would easily be up against this miniature claw-footed tub which, at that moment, was home to three Daddy Long Legs giant spiders.  Smack, Smack, Smack...I hate spiders!  I had known the cottage contained a bathtub in lieu of a shower and that (all the better) it was an antique footed tub.  I, however, had not thought to ask if the antique footed bathtub was in a bathroom...or even if there WAS a bathroom. Then I began the inevitable slide into hysteria as I realized I didn't see a toilet.  I'm sixty-six, I pee all day and all night and I didn't see a toilet.  However, as I ripped open a curtain in frustration and sheer despair, I found the toilet...actually in a  corner of the kitchen but for a strategically placed curtain which, unfortunately, now lay crumpled on the floor. 

To the left of the bathtub, separated by a thin partition, was the kitchen/bathroom sink...something of a sink for all seasons and purposes under heaven.  It was tiny and a bit on the dingy side--but it had running water with only a faint hint of lake aroma wafting from it.  Smack!  Damn, I hate spiders.   

It was now time to apologize, plead, and throw myself on BC's mercy.  I desperately began to point out all of the positive features of our little home away from home for the next two weeks.  The Love Nest had appliances: a tiny greasy stove shoved tightly against a small moldy refrigerator, plus a badly stained Mr. Coffee (never buy a white coffee-maker of any brand) with a goodly supply of mugs.  And, the best thing going, the walls were covered with shelves containing dusty books, pictures, knick-knacks, cobwebs and a tiny working radio.  That was the Writer's Retreat area of the Love Nest--yet another attractive feature for me but not so much for "less is more" BC.  And now, to our left, the bedroom.   

The bedroom! It had been so cute in the pictures.  Shutters on the windows with sweetly ruffled curtains.  An attractive bed with cottage-y spread and colorful pillows artfully tossed about.  Perfect little bedside tables with perfect little lights. But, whoa, yet again!  As we looked on in sheer horror, we realized that somewhere between the staging, the photo session, the advanced Photo Shop applications and our arrival, the curtains and cutesy bedside tables were gone, replaced by not so cutesy substitutes.   The bed was erased right out from under the box spring and mattress leaving them plopped on the floor. It was a very simple, if not stark, room.  No bed, no bedspread, no curtains, no sheets...No, no, noooo...Smack!

BC stared at me, struggling to move his tight lips and mumbled, "I think we'll go to town now and buy a few groceries, cleaning supplies and sheets."   It was dark, it was raining, it was cold, it was late, but somewhere between the Love Nest and the closest village I  prayed there would be a miracle.