Yesterday evening, when we were having a lazy evening in our room, surfing the web for ideas for some place else to go, some new neighbors moved into the "suite" adjacent to ours. We knew they were there when the loud music started early in the evening. Joel just cranked up the volume on the TV a couple of notches and kept on surfing.
I was surfing for a new destination, too. I looked all over the top half of Arkansas, the bottom half of Missouri, and parts of Illinois and Kentucky. It seems we've pretty well toured these areas. I couldn't find a thing that excited me. Eventually, from across the room, Joel asked, "Well, where have you been looking?" I told him. He rattled off a couple of web site addresses. They didn't excite me, either. "I suppose we could always just go home and work in the garden." Joel surfed a little faster.
About the time we turned out the lights, we heard a series of low, throbbing hums. We both bolted upright in bed. "What was that?" We kept listening. It was the neighbors' jacuzzi jets, thank goodness, and not some freaky electrical appliance malfunction in our room. We rolled over and went to sleep.
About 6 a.m. this morning, I was awakened by a woman's shout. Alarmed, I raised up my head to listen. It was coming from next door. I kept listening. She kept shouting. Panting is more like it. Swear to God, it sounded like they were re-enacting the restaurant scene from "When Harry Met Sally" ("I'll have what she's having.") I covered up my head with my pillow until the noise died down.
But by then I was awake. I got up, turned on the coffee pot, toasted a slice of zucchini bread that we'd taken with us, and took my coffee, my bread, and my kindle out to the porch, hoping the neighbors were done.
Joel got up about an hour later. We showered, dressed, and loaded our stuff into the truck. Joel went to the office to turn in the key. When he came out, he said, "The guy said, 'Y'all sure are up early.'"
"Did you tell him the neighbors' loud sex woke me up at the crack of dawn?"
Joel had slept through the loud sex.
"There was another guy in the office," he said, after I told him the story. "I should've high-fived him."
Men.
We still hadn't decided on another destination, so we just drove in the general direction of home, looking for breakfast. Meanwhile, I started getting flash flood warnings for Eureka Springs, southern Missouri, and northern Arkansas. These warnings pretty much covered all of the places we'd talked about going. After breakfast, we headed home.
We mostly stayed ahead of the storm, though it caught up with us briefly in Mountain Home, Arkansas. By the time we hit Memphis, the warnings had been extended to eastern Arkansas and western Tennessee. The deluge hit just about the time we walked through our front door.
We both have the rest of the week off from work. During the drive home, I suggested that we could re-group and head somewhere else tomorrow. Joel said he'd thought about just staying home and painting the living room. This was music to my ears, as I'd long ago grown sick of the "Butternut Squash" paint that turned out to be more like "Schoolbus Yellow" on our walls.
Who needs another trip when there's a willing man with a paint roller in the house?
It's good to be home!
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