When the Kidling was little, we had a playroom each spring, summer and
fall, as he and his buddies could play Lego or later Dungeons and Dragons in the
Boler or have a sleepover with movies (on the laptop, with the speakers), and always snacks or chips and pop in the
fridge. And a lav. Boys!
A few summers ago, we had an elegant guest room, with its own reading lamps, radio,
lights, heat source,
fridge, closet and lav. A happy visiting mother-in-law even had her own kitchen and a happy daughter-in-law was pleased to have a
Boler in the carport.
My mom says, when she visits, stuff about fresh fish and relatives and three days. His mom, in the
Boler that summer, was like a nice smoked salmon. Sweet and salty, good for nice a long time. After a week, we said, no stay; after two weeks, we said, no stay; about halfway through the next week she left and we were all so pleased with the nice long visit.
Right now, we have a Dream Bachelor Pad. Imagine you are a teenage boy, still young enough to inspire older women to hand you five bucks cash upon sight, for no reason, really; yet old enough to gallantly volunteer to camp out in the TT and give grandpa his (miraculously cleaned!) room.
Now imagine your first ever girlfriend, she slim and strong, and you, there, cuddling on the plaid dinette bench, watchin' comedies on your very own laptop, with the iced tea chilling and nacho chips and me politely knocking before entering. Every so often.
Kinda makes you wonder why there isn't a Boler in every driveway! People! Don't you realize what this can mean to you?! I mean, plus camping.