A couple times a year, we rent a cabin in the woods for a week. We take the dogs and hike, nap, read, and relax. This time around, we took a few days off before and after our week at the cabin, so we’ve been “on vacation” for nine straight days. Nine.
Although, the cabin didn’t have any sort of connection to the outside world. I mean, there was a TV (which we never turned on), but the most important connection – the interwebs – nonexistent. At first I was totally fine with it. The cabin had lots of nooks and crannies full of the oddest artwork. Like this (click on the images to enlarge to their full-scale weirdness):
So we checked out the cabin and the grounds, which also included a quiet little pond:
And some more weird art:
Overall, it was a lovely vacation. It’s so nice to take a break and just relax, and the boys loved hiking – more on that tomorrow.
It rained TONS, which was perfectly fine by me because I brought a huge stack of books and magazines, and I snuggled with the pups. Perfection. Although I really did miss my internet connection. I missed reading everyone’s blogs! I’m really looking forward to catching up on everyone’s posts this week!
In the end, we cut our trip short by about 12 hours. The last night we were there, it was close to bedtime, and John discovered that this trap door underneath the dining table opened to… a narrow set of concrete stairs that descended into gray, poured-concrete, and cinderblock cellar. But you couldn’t see anything down there because at the bottom of the stairs, it veered off to the right.
So I did what any good wife would do.
I triple-dog dared him to go down the creepy dark stairs under the creaky trap door.
He started to go then backed out. (Any fifth graders out there: Remind me the penalty for breaking a triple-dog dare?)
We went back to the living room, and of course the cabin was creaky. So, again like a good wife, I said, “Great, John. You scared up the mummy remains of the zombie family from the portrait in the bedroom.”
“Next time you walk past, that father is going to stick his mangled zombie finger through the hole in the trap door and grab your pant leg.” I continued to make up a horror story about how all the creepy people in all the bizarre portraits were really kidnapped souls who, like us, had rented the cabin for a little relaxing getaway but were sucked down into that grody cellar once they broke the seal of the trap door. Any minute, that door would swing open, and we’d all be sucked down. Then a picture would appear on the wall with a creepy-fied portrait of us. For the next unsuspecting campers to find.
I continued for far too long.
The cabin was far too creaky.
We packed up and left that night. 🙂