bunny_hugger had made the AirBnB rental of the house in Omena. Her parents were terribly anxious about what might happen if they got to it first: how would they get the keys? What if something was wrong? Even if it were something bunny_hugger could easily fix how could she get there in time? So naturally they got to the house first, and by a considerable margin. Possibly longer than we spent at the rest area stretching and letting our pet rabbit stretch. There were no problems at all, though, none except that the trash bin was abnormally heavy and full. Apparently the people renting the house before us had a rather jolly time of it. The homeowner had added a new rule, after Independence Day but before our week up north started: no fireworks. And his review of the renters on AirBnB was polite but curt, compared to the glowing reviews he gave of everyone else including, ultimately us.
Sometime when we weren't really looking somebody rolled the trash bin down the driveway for pickup. This was how we came to understand there was someone near the scene to handle routine little maintenance problems.
It's a nice house, though, the vacation home of someone in Chicago(?) who hasn't got the chance to spend all his time there. The property was once an orchard, and the apple trees gone fallow, possibly feral, were there to wander around. There was even a little root cellar accessed by hidden door underneath the dining room right where you'd put a trap door in a Scooby-Doo mystery. Solid as the door was I would be nervous every time I sat on the chair over it, and I'd edge the seat as far away as I could without being obviously out of line.
We set our pet rabbit out on the lawn and saw how much he loved that. Mostly he sat and ate. Sometimes he got up and shuffled his way somewhere, to a large bush nearby or to the woods in the distance. We're not sure if he understood what the woods were. bunny_hugger's parents worried about him getting away from us, although if he were able to break away from all of us and make his way into the forest the miracle might be worth the loss.
While we would eat out a fair bit --- it was vacation, and there were places the family had eaten many times in the past and wanted to revisit --- we didn't figure to eat out all the time. Who would? We went to Northport and the Tom's grocery there to stock up on supplies: eggs, cheese, milk, a lot of Frosted Flakes, soda, that sort of thing. And since the store was next to an ice cream shop we stopped there too, for the first of comically many ice cream cones bunny_hugger's father would have over the week.
The house's owner had left behind a pleasant note on the table, as well as a bottle of wine that bunny_hugger's father kept looking covetously at. He's as much a wine drinker as any of us, which is to say, he's not a wine drinker. We did yield to it, though, and played a chapter of Mice and Mystics which had stumped us in previous sessions while drinking the gift. We didn't beat the chapter, although I got pretty amusing in how exasperated I was my character kept getting captured.
There were several bedrooms upstairs, including one made for the sort of kid everyone thinks they were, stuffed full of slightly precious toys. And we had our pick of the three. We realized the only grounds we had to pick one over the others: none of the windows had curtains. We picked the bedroom with the windows facing more westerly. Someone else would get the windows that would provide unfiltered dawn. Those people would arrive Tuesday.
Trivia: Canada's export tax on alcohol, in the late 1920s, provided about one-fifth of the government's revenue. In 1929 it provided double the revenue income tax collection did. Source: Smuggler Nation: How Illicit Trade Made America, Peter Andreas.
Currently Reading: Peanuts Every Sunday, 1952 - 1955, Charles M Schulz. With the grownups in the 1954 Lucy Golfing sequence!