Camping trip

Went on a long-planned camping trip this past weekend.  Our camper allows hubby to do this, as there is a bathroom, etc. in it.  We left Friday night.  Remembering our last camping trip last fall, I told him that I wanted all of his things either packed in the camper or by the door so that I could walk them out to the camper by Thursday night before I went to bed. 

Why would I ask him to do this?  Last fall's camping trip started out like this:  I got home from work expecting to leave, as I had packed everything else the night before.  He had all day to get his stuff into the camper, so I figured no problem.  Silly me.  When I got home, it soon became obvious he had packed nothing.  When I asked what the hell he had been doing all day, he went ballistic.  Some time later, his things were all packed (amidst screaming, swearing and yelling . . . he would NOT check his sugar), and we were on our way.  But the out of control screaming got worse, especially after I insisted he check his sugar on route.  This is all while I am trying to drive a 30 foot motor home (which I never wanted, by the way.)  When he finally checked it, he claimed it was 130.  This should not have accounted for his off-the-wall behavior, so still don't know if he was being honest, or was having an anxiety attack (over what exactly?)  I actually tried to turn around and go back home twice, and he would have none of that.  Anyway, to make a long story short, we did get there, but I had to drive in the dark, missing all the fall foliage I had so looked forward to seeing.  I was so angry at him, I didn't enjoy the trip at all . . .

So anyway, back to the present.  By Thursday night, you guessed it, none of his stuff was packed again.  After several off the wall, totally senseless comments, I got him to check his sugar, which he insisted was fine.  It was 47.  Wonderful.  I went to bed, not willing to pack his clothing and meds after I had once again packed everything else.  At least this time did go better, as most of his things were in the camper when I got home Friday.   Maybe because I informed him if it was not, I would not be going this time!

We had an uneventful drive to the campground and got there when some of our friends also arrived.  First time we've been on time, ever.  Felt great.  Then we discovered the robin's nest inside the rear bumper of our camper.  4 little robins, and they had ridden the whole way there.  I felt horrible, and fed them raw turkey burger and blueberries all weekend.  Despite my best efforts, 3 died before we left, and we actually got one home alive.  He or she died sometime today, even though Mama Robin did come back to take care of him/her.  So we will never take the camper anywhere again without checking for nests!  I am feeling really bad that all the babies died, as I really did try to save them.

As for hubby, he ate everything in sight our first night out, and of course got sick.  By the time he actually got up the next day (around noon), the meter only read HIGH, which means he was over 600.  Again, wonderful.  He does this EVERY TIME we go camping with our friends, as everyone brings something special (and usually very sweet) to eat, and he has to eat seconds and thirds of all of it.  You would think he would learn!  Oh, and it also rained.  I'm thinking our next camping trip HAS to be better!  I can only hope.