Once upon a time, kH and I took a trip, on a whim, to Crescent City. Since then, we could have produced a child in college, but obviously we weren’t in any hurry.

I thought after the hell he’s had from work in the last few years, it would be nice if he could relax for his birthday. I remembered the peace of the redwoods and how happy he was the first time he saw them (it was very cute). Forget all the work of the trip (the planning, washing, cleaning the house–because I can’t stand coming home to a messy house– and packing), the driving (I did all the driving, but then I do all the driving, anyway), and the subsequent unpacking and washing and so forth. That was on me and I was fine with it. I am always unpacked and doing laundry immediately after returning. I waited to finish dinner, at least, this time.

As for relaxing–well–right before we left (as in 10 minutes), kH turned and fell against our back door and shattered the glass (thankfully the blinds were drawn and he didn’t cut himself).

The night we arrived, kH tripped on a curb at the harbor on our way into a restaurant. He cut his leg and his arm and is still bruised. (It was dramatic–a lady came running out of the restaurant to try to help.) Fortunately I’d purchased a bunch of Tegaderms right before we left and we travel with a decent first aid kit. By the end of that night, I think he had four Tegaderms on.

The next day, either the hiking guide or I (or both) miscalculated a hike and the peace of the forest was pierced by the screaming of our child, who is terrified of insects but equally horrified when centipedes are stepped on; there were a lot of centipedes and a lot of screams. I ended up having to go on ahead for the car because kH and pH were both exhausted and kH was still limping.

The next day, we went on what was supposed to be a goofy roadside attraction/rite of passage for the north coast, but it also involved more hiking than either kH or pH bargained for (I was in ballet flats, but I can do anything in a skirt and flats, including a terrifying gondola ride up a mountain–I hate gondolas).

But apparently not serial commas or, if we take it literally, anyone with a vagina. pH noticed it had other trees sprouting from it and observed it ought to be a motherhood tree instead.

That day his personal phone died (it refused to charge). If you know my husband, you know that nothing makes him twitchier than not having working electronic devices. I took pH to the beach, alone, to let him rest.*


The day after that, we discovered the money pit the hotel put us in** AND his tablet started behaving strangely.

Today we drove home. He had to deal with work calls from people who did not observe the holiday. And he discovered his home computer isn’t working.

Karma isn’t wasting time: I just tripped on my way down the stairs and mangled my foot.

Next year we’ll stay home.

*I was the person getting a sunburn while wearing 50 SPF, a hat, and long sleeves and a long skirt. I also was sunburned while hiking in the redwoods in fog. I’m talented that way.

**I did pretty well until this morning, when I put my head on the counter in the hotel lobby and cried because nothing had seemed to go right (this was after his bank was pushing through the credit on that account, at least, but I guess that was my tipping point). I was sure everything was my fault since I forced the trip on him (he would prefer not to travel on vacation or, really, much at all) and it was nothing but inconvenience after inconvenience. (When we were in a minor city in Oregon a couple of hours later, I met a woman in a restroom who said, “Oh, I know you! I saw you in the lobby of the hotel at Crescent City!” and I managed to say something, although I can’t remember what, so I just hope it wasn’t “Yes, I was the one crying because they triple billed us.”)