Finished another 20 hour work week. This weekend was far easier than Memorial weekend due to the lower numbers checking in, but being mentally alert for 8 hours is still a challenge. By Saturday night I am thoroughly exhausted and want nothing but to allow my mind some peaceful space.
I have a wonderful neighbor, her name is Jan, and she comes down for the weekend with her son Ben and sometimes her husband Carl. She is a woman of the woods, climbs mountains and is the third string for mountain search and rescue crews. She has left some wood and cardboard on my "new" picnic table but I am just too tired to build a fire and decide a lit candle will just have to suffice. Happily, Jan comes out and offers to build a fire for me so we sit and chat for a few hours about our sons, both named Ben, the camp and our lives. I tell her far too many times how happy I am that she is my neighbor.
After watching a movie I got to sleep around 1:00 AM and up again at 6:00 AM to get the Sunday newspaper. Because they deliver a very limited number of papers, if you are not up that early, chances are you will not get the paper. It is the only newspaper I purchase during the week and it is the Portland Oregonian and I love the travel section, the crossword puzzles, the weight and feel of it.
When I arrive at the news stand, there is an elderly gentleman who is surprised the paper is not in yet. He comes every Sunday at the same time and assures me it should be in by now. I decide to wait with him and enjoy the quiet and beauty of the early morning. After about a half hour's wait, another woman shows up for the paper. She also decides to wait. Under normal circumstances, all of us probably would have gone home and come back another time, but there are now three of us waiting and all of us agree that there may only be 5-6 papers allotted to this particular box. I love my Sunday paper, I want my Sunday paper, but how long should I wait?
I finally give in after an hour and a half. It is raining, I am chilled and I am tired from lack of sleep. I leave the other two people still waiting and go back home, sleep for a few hours and return at 10:00 AM to an empty box. I don't know if the paper ever came, or if it did come and now they have all sold. Bummer.
Before leaving to return home to Portland, neighbor Jan knocks on my door to say good-bye. I tell her my tale of the morning paper vigil and she offers to get me a paper when she goes to the grocery store. She is gone less than 15 minutes and returns with the prize, a Sunday newspaper.
How many times can I tell this woman how happy I am that she is my neighbor??