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Day # 7. Not sure when I’ll return. I guess it’ll depend on when the credit cards max out and Mama T and Wilson manage to find me and wrest control of “my” RV.

The overnight at my friend’s house on day seven in a suburb of Chicago should have been drama-free. I rolled in a few hours later than planned, salty as a sailor, fresh from a tour of Gary, Indiana, I became even saltier when I pulled up in front of Michelle’s house. It was immediately clear we hadn’t sufficiently worked out the details of my parking the RV at her house. Michelle lives in a Chicago-style neighborhood. This translates into a house with no driveway, on a narrow street with a tilt to the road. Having level parking is basic. There was an easy solution. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to take the easy way out when a thousand complications are possible. A thousand possible stories.

I set up in an empty Costco parking lot a few blocks from Michelle’s house. Not exactly the most appealing idea, but the nearby neighborhood felt safe enough, a good enough solution for one night. We proceeded directly to a happy hour in my awesome party pad. All is fine until we notice a group of young men videotaping what appeared to be horseplay/mock fighting. The random cars pulling in and out of the now deserted parking lot left me wondering if I really wanted to sleep here. Michelle mentioned the possibility of staying in her guest room. The idea of leaving the RV had a negative zero appeal.

Michelle’s new house is nothing short of really really beautiful. To name just a few of its features, the house is blessed with great natural light, gorgeous wood floors, arched entryways, specialty crown molding, and a generous backyard with established gardens. All this home goodness also features a wonderful neighborhood park a few steps from the front porch. One night extended into two. Catching up on news of her two awesome kids, one married and fully launched into the work world, the other on his way (you Henry!) was long overdue. But the most wonderful part of all was meeting Michelle’s dog Scout.

Scout and I bonded immediately. A rescue like Cleo, she’s curious, happy, friendly, and loving. Nova, perpetually insecure about her place in the pack, did not approve. She expressed her displeasure anytime Scout and I sat together, snapping and growling until we gave up and moved apart. Cleo however was a perfectly behaved houseguest.

Leaving “my” beloved rental RV to spend a night in Michelle’s comfortable guestroom felt like a mammoth struggle. A decision I was able to make thanks to the timely intervention of a travel angel who assured me the RV would be fine without me. Why did I struggle to make the obvious choice? Maybe my early Calvinist, Baptist, and/or Fundamentalist upbringing? That farmer’s work ethic that laziness is a mortal sin (it really isn’t) and the easy path the one most likely to encounter the devil. It’s exhausting. I’m resolved henceforth to flow like water at the next opportunity.

The weekend turns out beautifully. Michelle treats me to an Architectural Boat tour to see Chicago’s remarkable buildings. The weather was stunningly perfect. With kisses and promises to return soon, we parted, friendship renewed.