Girl on the Brink: Surviving Desperate Times with Desperate Measures

ANN’S NOTE:

Listen to me speak about my manifesto, Idle Workers of the World, on NPR affiliate WRKF, recorded Labor Day 2009.

“That’s a familiar face. I just can’t place it,” said my ex as I was straining to blow up my air mattress.

“It’s a small dick,” I said, referring to the little blows I was giving the valve.

“I’ll stay if that’s what you’re going to do,” he said.

We both laughed. Moments earlier, I had split an Ambien in half with a Swiss Army knife and told him I thought I needed to take the other half.

I had already finished a half a bottle of white wine in a pink plastic cup and eaten my share of the traditional campfire meal—hot dog, baked beans, and s’mores—all of which tasted like a, well, campfire meal.

At 9:29 PM, I was ready to hit the sack after hiking for more than three hours with my ex and two tween sons.

Our home for the night was campsite No. 4 at False State Cape Park in Virginia Beach. This trip marked the end of summer.

I agreed to go because I wanted to make my kids happy. Thankfully, the wine and Ambien made me happier.

My ex and I lost our jobs about 10 months ago—the same time as our divorce—and our financial situation has forced us to share the same roof but separate beds. I think that (our living situation) will change soon because my ex starts work this week, and he said he’d pay my share of the mortgage so I could move out.

We arrived at our campsite less than an hour before dusk, which gave me enough time to watch my kids tumble in the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

While they played, my mind drifted to the sleeping arrangements. I strained to imagine how all four of us would fit in the tent.

You must be thinking, Is she going to have sex with her ex?

I don’t blame you for thinking that. Our living situation falls into the I-don’t-know-how-you-can-do-that category, followed by a big roll of the eyes.

I counted on sleeping next to my kids—a buffer between me and my ex. I didn’t think he’d make it through the night because he snores, and my kids would kick him out once the sound of his snoring drowned out the sounds of nature.

Once I closed my eyes, I let my kids do their thing. Sure enough, their dad’s nightly racket roused them from sleep, and he ended up sleeping on a berm near the tent, leaving the three of us wrapped in the downy comfort of our sleeping bags. I ask, what’s not to like?

That would have to be the rain the next morning.

And that’s why I love not camping.