[img]969|left|Alex Campbell||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — I’m Three times a year I go to this place in Western Massachusetts called Stump Sprouts. It’s a rustic sort of place; basically, a cabin of three floors, with bedrooms on the top two floors. The rooms all have a double bed and bunk beds in them, all handmade from wood. There’s a common living room, a dining area with family-style seating next to the kitchen, and four shared bathrooms.
When I go to Stump Sprouts, about twenty friends and I rent out the whole place. It’s like camp for grownups. We bunk together, play cards, bocce, Scrabble, take walks, and laze around. I like to center my activities around the three delicious meals that are prepared for us.
Eventually I have to take a shower. Sounds easy, right? Wrong. You have to time your shower so it doesn’t interfere with the dishwashing schedule. You have to beat people to the bathroom if you want the good one upstairs not the creepy ones downstairs (yes, one woman’s creepy is another one’s spa experience; to each her own). You have to have all your stuff in there, ready to go. Towel, shampoo, saline solution, toothbrush. If one thing is forgotten, you run the risk of someone going into the bathroom while you retrieve whatever it is you forgot.
Never Forget. Never Forget to Remember
The last time I was at Stump Sprouts, I forgot my shampoo, conditioner, soap and special facial cleanser for my sensitive skin. Not forgot, like in my room, but forgot…at home. I was in a quandary. All of my other stuff was in the bathroom—towel, toothbrush and toothpaste, glasses. My roommate, Kristine, was sure to have shampoo and conditioner. I wondered if I should take a chance and dash to the room, knowing the bathroom could be occupied in a matter of seconds. I risked it.
I sprinted to the room and lunged for the nearest bag. No hair products. I looked around, squinting without my glasses. I saw the socks of my other roommate, Kristine’s four-year old son. I saw a copy of Horton Hears a Who. I saw a half-eaten banana. I think. I saw nothing for my hair and no soap for my face or the rest of me. I ran back to the bathroom, which was still unoccupied, thank goodness, and surveyed the scene.
I decided to go survivalist and use what was available. I grabbed the liquid soap that came with the place, stepped in the shower, and pretended I was on a reality TV show where I hadn’t had a shower in three weeks and this was all I had. It was heaven. All the dirt and grime from the past three weeks I’d spent on Western Massachusetts Island washed off of me, as I strategized how I would win a million dollars by eating raw octopus tentacles.
I felt clean and refreshed after my shower, and dried off, with a new zest for life. I toweled my hair dry, and then had a flashback.
(insert wavy lines across the screen here)
Kristine and I are at her house, packing for Stump Sprouts:
Kristine: Do you think I’ll need my blow dryer?
Me: Nah, don’t bring it, you’ve got enough stuff as it is. You don’t need one more thing!
Kristine: If you say so…
(flash back to the present)
No blow dryer. Wild hair. Ah, well, it wasn’t like I was at some fancy resort with white cotton sheets and a mint on my pillow. I was roughing it! I slept in a sleeping bag on the top bunk, with a little boy in the bottom bunk who fell out of bed in the middle of the night. I trekked around the perimeter of the grounds, and saw what might have been a garden snake! I lost, then won, then lost, a game of Backgammon! I survived a shower with only pump soap! I was about to win a million dollars!
Next time you’re in Western Massachusetts, stop by Stump Sprouts. You’re guaranteed a good, clean time. Don’t forget to pack your shampoo. Or your imagination.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at her new address, snobbyblog@gmail.com
