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The Great Unloading Disaster
We’d been camping in Peninsula State Park in Door County. We’d survived the mosquitoes, eaten soup for two weeks straight (thanks, Lisa), and even Grandma Doris—cruising around on her power scooter—had enjoyed herself. The trip was a success by all counts.But as soon as we pulled into the driveway, our luck ran out. It was time to unload the camper—otherwise known as “the part no one volunteers for.”
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Fate Had Other Plans
I like to think I’m in charge of my own life. I’ve got color-coded calendars, synced reminders, and a to-do list that could scare a project manager. My inner control freak sleeps better when everything fits in a nice, neat box.But every so often, fate rolls her eyes, tosses my list in the air, and says, “Cute plan. Watch this.”
It’s never dramatic at first. Usually it starts with some tiny glitch—Wi-Fi dying during a meeting, a dog emergency, or the weather deciding to monsoon on my “productive” day. I huff, I mutter, I question all my life choices. And then, like clockwork, something unexpected falls into place. I’ll stumble across an old photo, get a call from someone I’ve been meaning to reach, or realize that fate just canceled my plans so I could actually notice my own life.