Recently I packed up my things and went on the road with my husband, John. He has been a truck driver for the better part of the last four years but only recently went back to long haul. It’s been a constant struggle and occasionally a nightmare for both of us. If I could, I’d probably stay on the truck with him all the time. I’m not employed but I do have pets that need looking after, a duty that falls on my wonderful sister-in-law, Kayti, while I’m gone. Point being that I can’t stay out too long or I feel as though I’m shirking my responsibilities.
Living together on the truck is kind of like sharing a very small apartment. An apartment that moves, has no bathroom, and is constantly humming. Our things are generally everywhere, due to the abundance of them and the lack of places to keep them. John does all right by himself (as well as you can expect from a man living like a bachelor) but with my stuff added in it becomes a catastrophe. No matter how frequently I clean up, it seems as though everything is everywhere. But that’s only the beginning of the troubles I’ve found being on the road.
The bathroom situation, I mentioned that. I’m sure you know what it’s like: you wake up at the butt crack of dawn and you have to pee, badly, so you begrudgingly leave your bed to go to the bathroom. It’s probably about twenty steps from your bed. And you don’t have to put on pants or anything. It’s not quite so easy on the truck. Every morning I wake up far too early and struggle to find my clothes and my shoes. Which would be easier if I could remember where my glasses were. Generally once I’m fully clothed I have to make a vague attempt at making myself presentable to the public. Finally, I get to walk across a vast truck-and-trucker-filled parking lot to the public restroom. Can I get back to sleep when I return? Of course not.
My final point for now (I have, oh, so many more) is what I teased already: my husband is a fire elemental. I discovered this only recently but there have been hints in the past. He’s always a blast furnace, even when it’s freezing. He wears sandals all the time, no matter what the weather is like. Worst of all, he always has the AC on which is what lead me to my final conclusion. We spent a rather hot day in French Camp and he kept lowering the temperature on the AC, until he got it as far down as it goes: 50 degrees. I was wrapped up in two blankets at that point and still shivering but he was hot to the touch. Sure, maybe he was dehydrated or some other such thing but I choose to believe that he’s a fire elemental.