Indio, California: Everything happened at once today. It was a busy whirl-wind of activity all day at our little campsite in paradise.
Luckily, we woke early and were able to enjoy a cup of coffee and the New York Times Crossword Puzzle (we have a daily competition) before our campsite became the epicenter of activity.
Our golf cart was delivered. The guy called. Said he was on his way. Did not show up for quite a while. In the meantime, My Driver decided to unpack the dishes, pots, pans, glasses (etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc) and place everything into the cabinets Maricela's crew had meticulously cleaned yesterday. (Last Spring, before we left, I photographed every cupboard and drawer, so this task was simplified today.) I was organizing inside the motorhome and tending to laundry and correspondence.
The golf cart guy arrived and proceeded to unload a golf cart into our driveway. He started telling Dave something about how the golf cart was having starting issues and needed to be on the charger... or something was wrong with the charger... or, heck I can't really recall, because IT WAS NOT OUR GOLF CART! The guy had brought the wrong golf cart to our campsite.
Oops. He was embarrassed. We were not. We did not want a defective-in-some-way golf cart as we had not left him with a defective-in-any-way golf cart. Our golf cart was delivered several hours later. It worked perfectly. We did spend over an hour removing the Oregon "O" decal from the front of the cart. We had purchased a new decal (better, larger) and wanted to apply the new logo to our cart. After clearing the old decal (Goo-Gone, oil, rubbing alcohol, finger nails picking away!), I completely screwed-up the new decal application. Ruined our new "O" and will have to order another.
Hope so, because my next step is to find a beagle.
In the middle of this scenario, the bus washing company surprisingly arrived to wash our motorhome... even though they had told DT they would not be able to even touch our motorhome for days as they were so swamped with returning campers. This often happens. Then Paul sees our dirty coach, can't stand the sight of our dirty coach, and somehow mysteriously fits us in to the schedule.
The team washed the motorhome, power washed the awnings, cleaned the windows, treated the tires (UV protection), treated the roof (UV protection), then dried the bus and left us looking like we had just left the show room. Our coach is eight years old.
The crew washed my filthy Jeep (inside and out) as well.
We wrote a lot of checks today. The Motorcoach Country Club supports many families in the Coachella Valley.
Thursday is Soup Night. I thawed a quart of Tuscan Bean Soup (which I made weeks ago), tossed a salad (with a persimmon from Gina and Steve) and Dave and I enjoyed our first meal of the season outside in our pavilion.
Cheers for a great winter ahead!
Until my next update, I remain, your clean (and sort of organized) correspondent.
RV PARK: The Motorcoach Country Club