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.