I had just finished leveling the camper when Morgan pulled up in his white sedan. It’s a process—leveling the camper—made a bit more complicated thanks to a slightly hyper mutt running around while I work the jacks, wondering why we can’t just go straight to the creek.
“Who cares if your feet are above your head?” Phoebe seemed to ask. “The cutties are waiting.”
And then there was Morgan. Super nice. Polite. Hat in hand.