May 26th, Monday, Memorial Day
The next morning, we woke up indoors on a comfortable bed, which was really strange. And we didn’t have to walk anywhere, which was even stranger!
Zach and I wandered upstairs to find Lisa cooking us breakfast. Bill was already up and at ‘em, weed-whacking brush in the side yard. Zach and I, both excited and dizzied by the idea of not having to walk today, asked if Lisa needed anything done around the house. She said that if we wanted to, she had some ideas, although she seemed to think it was funny that we wanted to work on our day off. To me, the idea of working— actually working, not walking!— sounded pretty amazing.
Zach got to work mowing their lawn, and I headed out into the hot, sunny day to clean the goat pen. I raked up the old straw while the goats scuttled around me. Every time I put the straw into garbage bags and let it out of my sight for a second, the goats attacked it. I would turn around to see them trying to climb on top of it. Once I turned around to see one determinedly goring the bag with his tiny horns. I shooed them off, but couldn’t help but laugh!
After that we went inside and Lisa made us sandwiches and we nearly ate ourselves sick. Lisa asked what we’d like for dinner. “What have you really missed on trail— something you never get?”
With little hesitation, Zach said, “Mexican food.”
Lisa happened to have several signature Mexican dishes, including some homemade tamales she had in the freezer. She decided to whip us up a feast.
We chatted with her while she cooked, then lounged around, played more pool, called people, caught up on my diary, and generally savored the feeling of not walking. I loved sitting inside in the air conditioning, wearing shorts, feeling my clean bare legs against the sofa. The whole day is a dreamy blur of climate control, clean surfaces, country music playing softly in the background, and not being uncomfortable for an entire day.
That night we had our feast: homemade tamales, chili verde, refried beans and rice. I could barely eat everything on my plate, but it tasted divine.
Bill was going to leave for work early in the morning, so Zach and I bid him goodnight. He assured us that we could drop by anytime. “And if you run out of water in the desert, just give me a call. As long as you’re anywhere within five hours, I’ll find some way to get water to you!” Some people’s generosity knows no bounds.
After Zach and I bid them both goodnight and shot pool for a while in the basement, I considered taking a shower. But I’d gotten so used to infrequent showers that two in a row just seemed ridiculous. I decided to pass.
If I had known how long it would be till my next shower, I would have spent all night in the tub.