This exercise was triggered by the line from a book. "But the water bowls never worked."
But the water bowls never worked.
And the wood stove? Maybe in olden times women could cook and cook well over a fire. Her? She could undercook or overcook anything.
And what kind of holiday was it anyway when she had to go into the woods to pee or worse and cooking was an almost all day process?
Her husband loved this cabin where he'd spend every summer during his childhood. This was their first trip after two years of marriage. He'd been so excited to show off its wonders.
They had to reach it by God damned canoe, for Christ's sake, their supplies at their feet as they paddled across the icy lake.
Now that was another thing--her choice of feeling dirty or turning blue in the lake.
Sexual fantasies for her holiday? Her fantasy, now, was a hotel with a heated pool, restaurants with stars on their door, churches and museums to explore and maybe a concert.
Her husband's head and shoulders appeared in the kitchen window. "Wonderful news!"
Before she could ask, "We're leaving????" he held up a a fish, one recently dead. "Lunch," he said.
She tried not to cry. "