It's actually been a pretty uneventful few days. I'm parked at a campground for the week, and I've been too busy with the rest of my life to get much done in the RV. Oddly enough, aside from the fact that my to-do lists are staring me in the face every day, reminding me that I have so much still to do, things are actually going pretty much as I had planned.
Sunday, before making the trip out to the campground, I made a couple stops to pick up some minor supplies and groceries that I would, or could, need while stationary for a week, and while I was out, I made one unnecessary, personal purchase.
I've been needing a good pocket knife for a while now. I almost always carry a knife, but my knives are always too big to be really practical. Being a 31 year old child, I tend to buy small swords rather than big knives. So, before making my trip out to the campground, I bought a quality pocket knife, like the one that my little brother carries that I've always coveted, a CRKT M16-03Z.
This one, in case you didn't know what a CRKT M16-03Z looked like.
I wasn't even out of the parking lot of the camping store before I put my new knife to use, opening packaging and cutting tie downs. In other words, it took mere moments for me to demonstrate to myself the utility of my new purchase, and therefore justifying the purchase. My new knife would come in handy, over and over again.
By the time the sky was turning orange with imminent sunset, I was set up at the campground. I'm getting pretty timely with setting up when I park. Plug the power in, open the awning, fold out the couch table, set out the camp chairs, stand back and admire your work. I had time to kill, and the girl working the counter at the camp store/check in counter was pretty cute, so I picked up my walking stick and strolled over to dick around in the campground store, where I made my second frivolous purchase of the day.
I've already talked here about my overly romantic nature, and how the poetry of what I'm doing has been really apparent to me. Well, while wandering about in the campground store, I stumbled across, what I believed anyway, to be a great thing. I decided that I needed a souvenir, to commemorate my first official campground living, and they had the perfect thing. A pocket knife, with my name on it and the campground name on the back.
Yes, my name is Zachary
In mere hours, I'd gone from no pocket knives, to two. One for utility, for putting in my back pocket and leaving there until it's needed, then immediately returned, for cutting boxes and strings and fishing lines and whatever wants for cutting. One for romance, because for the first time, I was living in the RV as I had meant to live in it, and I wanted an object to commemorate the event, likely to be put in a drawer and forgotten, until that day when I would stumble across it and remember the feeling of seeing my RV parked in its spot at the campground, awning out, camp chairs by the door, with the dog sitting at the door, settled in for the first time.
-Z
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