In the middle of summer, I stumbled across a heck of a deal on a double wide, traditional hammock. I snatched it up without thinking anything but MINE.
When I got home, Peter was less excited than I was. Probably because he remembered the last hammock I bought, and never used. In fact, that first hammock is hiding in the shed with the evil rake, probably working out a coup to get out of their bug-infested prison.
I knew Peter was flashing back on that hammock, and therefore couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for the new one. He was remembering the broken drill bits and the many trips to the hardware store to get the ‘right’ equipment to hang it.
And here I was, happy to do it all over again with a REAL hammock.
After hearing a list of what I needed to do to get the new hammock up, I ran off to the hardware store and explained to a wide-eyed employee the exact equipment I needed to make this the most comfortable, most secure hammock hanging ever. He didn’t disappoint. Soon I was loaded with six feet of chain, two carabineers and two lethally long screw thingies with a circle in the end to secure the chain and hammock between the trees.
I convinced Peter to help me put the hammock up. I used tactics such as “how many more drill bits do you want me to break, and which ones should I use to prevent this?”
Boys and their tools. It’s so cute.
We got one end up. The second didn’t fare so well. We got the screw thingie in and managed to break it off, right in the tree, right at the most critical point. I was immediately defeated, and went back to the house to add ‘stronger screw thingies’ to my list. Memories of the first hammock shrouded me, and I swear I heard it giggle and blow a raspberry at me from the shed.
That was in July, and the hammock has only been up for two weeks. But what a great two weeks it has been.
Crawling on it, scooting to the perfect middle position, my head cradled at the top by the intelligent design of intertwined rope. Kicking off the ground and swinging my leg up, crossing at the ankles. How can anything be so perfectly comfortable?
I close my eyes, enjoying the soothing feel of rhythmic rocking, with nothing but the blowing leaves in the canopy above as my soundtrack. Fighting what would probably be one of the best naps of my life, I open my eyes to look to the sky.
And there’s a racoon, staring at me from a high branch.
“Hey, I thought you were nocturnal! What are you doing staring at me?”
Incomprehensible chatter answers my question before the critter disappears.
At that moment, I am glad that it took some time to put up my new favourite place. At this time of year, there are no bugs to send me screaming back to the house, and the only thing pesky are the leaves that are falling.
Sure, they are covering me at an alarming rate, but it’s a small price to pay for bug-free hammock lovin’. I’m sure Peter will come looking for me eventually, right?
