Recently, I was reminded of an old Irish saying, “There’s nothing so bad it can’t be worse.”

Gar winters in the south, either in Lake Jackson, Texas; or Pace, Florida; close to offspring, but he didn’t last year due to shoulder surgery.

Since the RV had been stored for 18 months, we figured it would need a little TLC. Ha!

It was the year for Florida, so we did a "round the rugged rock" tour, stopping to spend Thanksgiving with our eldest son’s gang at Highlands Ranch, Colorado. Then we moseyed onward, and the evening we pulled into our third son’s driveway in Texas, Gar got out, looked at the truck and announced we needed new tires before retrieving the camper.

“This would have been a great inspiration before leaving home” was my thought, and I might have said that since I like to keep Gar abreast of my inner ramblings. He ignored me and had tires put on.

After a few days of merriment with grandkids, we hooked up the camper and left for our second son’s bunch in Florida.

Outside Mobile, Alabama, the truck’s brakes began to growl. I mentioned that maybe we should have had new brakes put on when we should have had new tires put on while still in Wyoming. We were only an hour from our destination, so Gar wisely put the truck in four-wheel drive to slow the engine, and we safely got to the RV park.

When we leave the camper parked for the summer and fall, we put out Dri-Rid into gallon containers. It collects moisture from the air, deposits the water in the base and keeps the RV fairly damp-free. For a reason we haven’t figured out, we had a container in a bowl on a bed. At some point in hurricane winds, it toppled over, the salty moisture covering a mattress and soaking the bottom bunk. This was the beginning of “not a good time.”

We cleaned and put things away and felt we were making headway, so I took a shower. Surprise! There was a leak on the carpet from a fitting. Gar fixed it.

Then there was a leak under the kitchen sink. Gar fixed it.

Then there was a leak where the waterline came through the floor into the bedroom. Gar had to stand on his head and occasionally there was blue smoke, but he fixed it. Then we realized a slide had a cracked corner, probably from the same hurricane, allowing water to seep in, gathering under a dining bench.

Gar cut out the carpet, wood floor and damaged sheetrock and replaced everything with new. Boy, we were having fun. We hired a gentleman to fix the slide and, while on the payroll, to coat the roof. Nothing says “happy to be in the south for the winter” like spending a few thousand dollars.

On the second day, the coffee maker quit. I understood. I wanted to, too. Then the hot water heater quit. We switched it from gas to electric and kept going. The truck’s key fob wouldn’t let us open the truck doors, we killed three large ugly bugs, and several two-inch long, red wasps that were nesting in the air conditioner, and I started doing whatever is the opposite of whistling while I worked.

On the third morning, the electricity went out. Gar and I stared into each other’s eyes, daring the other to blink first. Gar flipped all breakers off and back on. Nothing. We called an electrician. He and his sidekick drove up, elbow out the window and asked “What’s the problem?”

Gar explained. The guy got out, went to the electrical pedestal, flipped the main breaker off then on and all was well with the world. Gar was dumbfounded. “It didn’t appear tripped.”

The guy had the decency to agree, “Yeah, these new ones don’t move, so you wouldn’t know. That’ll be $150.00.”

I was — how do you say in English — “enflamed.”

Really, Gar, you’re a man’s man for heaven’s sake. Gee-man-eeze.

Using our washer in the camper, I did laundry then put it in the RV park’s drier, coming back in 40 minutes to wet clothes. There were four settings: normal, permanent press, low heat, no heat.

Wanna guess which one I hadn’t noticed it was switched to? That’s right. No heat. I told Gar and he laughed, “You always say between the two of us, we almost make a half.”

I said, “From now on, when we’re introduced, we’ll call each other “Dim and Dimmer.”