A Ten Pound Bag
Chapter 12: The Bitch called Mila
Copyright© 2020 by Emmeran
It’s a funny thing how the distraction of business can make time truly fly by, the GPS was telling me to take the next off ramp seemingly minutes after we left the mad house traffic of San Diego behind. Getting to the campground was a short bit of grueling work, I wasn’t used to driving a rig this large on side streets and every maneuver took extra concentration. At one point I actually had to snap at Sonya to leave me alone before I forced her to drive us to our reserved camping spot.
We made it to the RV camping ground and we thankfully had a pull through spot, they were slow this time of year and that made every easier. I didn’t know if I was ready to try to back the trailer up into a tight spot yet even with all the electronic assistance.
After we pulled in and stretched our legs Sonya walked back up to the office to register us into the camping ground. This was the one and only time we were staying in a commercial campground, after this we would be staying in private lots where horses were allowed. While Sonya took care of the paperwork I set the trailer up and disconnected the truck, I was here to purchase a dog and didn’t feel like dragging the rig around to the breeder’s semi-suburban home.
With the truck disconnected from the trailer I put it in park and looked back to Matilda. “Out”, I told her, “go help Sonya set up the camp”. With that Matilda stowed her knitting, grabbed her voluminous shoulder bag and slipped out of the truck. I breathed a deep sigh of relief and watch as she walked back to the trailer and slipped into the living quarters.
I texted Sonya and let her know where I was going and drove away, it was a relief to have a few minutes alone after the last 24 hours and I really just wanted to breathe.
A text came in from Sonya reminding me to pickup our deliveries before the Post Office closed, a quick change of course and I pulled up to a medium sized building plastered with US Mail slogans and a prominent US Flag out front. The wait in line wasn’t long and after a quick show of my ID I was directed to pull up to the loading docks out back and I could load my packages.
I found the loading docks easily enough and carefully backed up to the loading itself and got out to greet the two workers waiting there. I hopped up on the dock and introduced myself to an attractive woman (about my age), and a young “just out of young adulthood” aged man – both were dressed in the official uniform of the United States Post Office. They pointed out the three pallets of goods they had for me.