So yesterday’s post pretty much covered the majority of Saturday. The only topic left was that my uncle came up to see us with his dog “Toby,” on Saturday afternoon. So we had a few beers (not Toby) and made fajitas outside on the grill as my birthday dinner.

We also partook in the Box o’ Cupcakes that my mom had sent.

Always good times.

Late that night, though, as we sat on the couch watching Black Mirror episodes on Netflix, I heard rather loud music coming from outside. Assuming it was just from a passing car, I didn’t pay it much mind.

Then it got louder.

Suddenly, my entire living room lit up and, as I looked to the window, I found a pair of headlights pointed straight at me.

My mind reeled with a rapid string of thoughts. “Why the hell is someone driving straight at my living room? It looks like they’re coming from the field, but that doesn’t make any sense. Oh God, where are my wife and daughter? Okay, they’re above us in Daph’s room. If he crashes into the house hopefully these old beams will hold and her room won’t fall.”

Fortunately my body required zero instruction and leapt off the couch of its own accord, in an effort to avoid colliding with an automobile.

The volume of the music rose as the vehicle got closer… Then the headlights turned right, narrowly avoiding the house, and sped out my driveway.

Heart pounding, I took one step toward the window to see what the hell that was about before the whole episode happened again.

I leapt backward as a white truck pulled the exact same maneuver, apparently following the lead of the first truck.

So here’s what I think happened.

These two guys were drunk and driving up the road past my house on their way to…whatever it was they were doing. I’d wager they were on their way to high (Twisted) tea with petite macarons before woodwind rehearsal…but your guess is as good as mine.

Then they saw the “Road Closed” sign…

At which point they promptly hung a left, assuming that the thru traffic was being detoured that way, and then inexplicably found themselves in someone’s driveway.

So they drove onto the grass to avoid hitting my uncle’s car, then swerved back onto said driveway to avoid hitting my lilac bush, then sped back the way they came.

Once I’d forged this narrative I felt a little better about the whole incident. Still pretty unnerving, though. Fortunately Jen and Daphne slept through the whole thing and had no idea what’d happened.

NEK weirdness.
Anyway, on to Sunday…

After some coffee and breakfast I randomly arrived at “we should go to the ocean” as the order of the birthday. (I make this stuff up as I go, remember?) Fast forward an hour and we were all in the car, on our way to Old Orchard, Maine. Now we’d never been there before, but it seems like everyone up here goes to Old Orchard at least once a summer…so we figured it was worth checking out.

40 minutes into the trip we started talking about York Beach instead, and how Daphne would love watching the taffy pulling machine at The Goldenrod. (And how Jen would love purchasing said taffy.) So we called an audible and repointed Apple Maps to York Beach, happy to find that it’d shaved about 15 minutes off the 3+ hour trip.

Just then, Daphne sent a message on her talker…

When her mother handed a bottle of water to her in the back seat, Daphne pounded the entire thing in less than a minute.

Thus began…

So we pulled into Gas Station Potty #1.

Unfortunately we were told moments after entering the store that their bathroom was out of order. Presumably that’s why Asshead there is standing awkwardly in a swirling blue puddle…
Bathroom’s been broke since 1959.

So we got back into the car and headed to the next exit, Gas Station Potty #2 in Lincoln, NH.

Unfortunately this one would turn out to be NADAP‘d, or Not A Daphne Approved Potty. She got about 2 feet from the door and then refused to go a single step farther. Apparently this was the right call, as Jen attempted to utilize said facilities and found them so horrific that she thought better of the whole thing and headed back to the car.

So we got back on the freeway and pulled off at the next exit, on the hunt for Gas Station Potty #3.

And found…nothing.

Not only was this a rare pottyless freeway exit, it also took us 7 miles out of our way before we could get back on I-93. (New England freeways are a thing, man…)

At which point the floodgates released and The Great Potty Hunt 2024 came to a soaking wet end. Having spent almost an hour searching for a suitable bathroom, and failing to do so, we gave up on the York Beach sojourn (it was still 2 hours away) and simply headed back home.

We changed Daphne into dry clothes, let her have another cupcake, and spent the rest of the day at home.

And that pretty much covers it.

Talk to you tomorrow.

j.s.