Antibiotics and Over-Stimulators (Not What You Think!)

Chapter 151: Mazes, Mood Boards, and Mild Delusion

After checking out of the campground, I swung by our construction site and did a full double-take. The trenches that once looked like an archaeological dig site had been filled with concrete, and the whole place now resembled a very committed attempt at building a human-sized maze. So, I decided to walk it.

This felt like a big upgrade. Previously, I hovered at the edges like a nervous bystander, worried I’d fall into a trench and have to make the world’s most embarrassing phone call: “Hi yes, I fell into my own future living room.” But now, with the concrete footings in place, I treated them like walkways. Five minutes later I was completely disoriented, standing somewhere between “future kitchen” and “maybe bathroom?” with no idea how I got there. 

The afternoon was dedicated to being a serious adult: paint swatches and wallpaper samples. I laid them all out in the van like I was about to solve a crime. Except all the clues looked exactly the same.  So I tried pairing them with wallpaper samples, hoping for a magical “this is the one” moment. Instead, I ordered more samples. Because nothing says decisiveness like adding more options.

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Chapter 152: Sick, Delusional, and Attacking My Own Flies

By Tuesday, my body decided to humble me. What started as a sore throat turned into a full production: coughing, runny nose, and misery. I went to the pharmacy, stared at an entire aisle of “miracle” products, and immediately gave up and asked for help.

The pharmacist took one look at me and declared, with confidence, that I had allergies. Apparently, the trees here are aggressive and I am new enough to be personally attacked by pollen. I was skeptical... since when does allergy feel like this? but also too tired to argue. Spoiler: it was not allergy. It was a cold. A generous, shareable cold that I later gifted to Nelson.

Back in the van, I had what can only be described as a low point. I spotted a moth on the kitchen counter and reacted instantly... smacked it with full commitment. Something felt off. The sound was wrong. The texture was wrong. Because it was not a moth. It was my Elk Hair Caddis fly.

The dead non-moth LOL

The one I made. The one I proudly hung up to “fix later.” I had just assaulted my own creation.

On the bright side, if it fooled me, maybe it’ll fool a trout. (One can hope!)

The rest of the week was a blur of feeling terrible but still having to function. Vanlife doesn’t really allow for “stay in bed all day.” You still have to drive, find food, exist like a person. I went to get the water pump replaced, armed with my entire survival kit: laptop, Kindle, tissues, cough drops, dignity (barely). The van behaved perfectly at the shop, of course. It always does. I don’t trust it.

Making myself at home... at the dealership

By the time I finally admitted defeat and saw a doctor, I was fully over it... physically and emotionally. Antibiotics were prescribed (massive horse pills, of course), plus some bonus allergy spray, because apparently everyone is committed to this allergy storyline except me. I also spent that same day fighting an app to book the appointment, calling a hotel about mystery charges ($80 a day for wifi, shame on you Marriott), and redoing an electricity application that somehow never went through. All while coughing through it.

And then came the pills. Giant. Impossible. I bought a pill cutter and started a routine of crushing them into yogurt like a toddler. The yogurt was aggressively sweet. The pills were aggressively awful. Somehow, together, they were still bad.

Horse pills are not my friend!

But hey... never lost my appetite. Small wins.

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Chapter 153: Flies, Feelings, and a Mayfly Reality Check

By the weekend, I was still not 100%, but functional enough to get back into the things that make this whole life fun, like tying flies and arguing with them.

I started strong: Elk Hair Caddis (less terrible this time), Parachute Adams (getting better), Crackle Backs (solid). Confidence was building. Then I decided to try a Stimulator.

Big mistake.

The Stimulator is basically three flies in one, which sounds efficient until you try to cram all that material onto a hook the size of my fingernail. There’s a body, a thorax, elk hair tail and wings, dubbing, rubber legs... so many elements, so little space. I ran out of room and patience multiple times. When I finally got something resembling a fly, I completely messed up the legs.

This Stimulator makes me cry :-D

At that point, the name felt personal. I was, in fact, over-stimulated.

We balanced out the chaos with cooking, as usual. Smoked trout, yakitori skewers, all the good stuff. This time we (when I say 'we' I mean 'Nelson') overcorrected and used too much charcoal, which meant everything cooked at lightning speed. Great for efficiency, terrible for flavor. The sauce didn’t have time to do its thing, and we ended up with food that looked amazing and tasted… confused. It matched the day.

Sunday brought a different kind of moment. While Nelson was out doing his catch-and-release experiments, a real mayfly made its way into the van. It just sat there, completely still, inviting me for a selfie.

Old me would have panicked or tried to get rid of it immediately. Current me just stared at it. It was delicate, perfectly formed, and more impressive than anything I had tied all week. I knew it only had about a day to live, which made it feel strangely significant... like this tiny, quiet reminder that nature is doing its thing whether I understand it or not.

I took a photo. Let it be. And for a moment, all the frustration... being sick, messing up flies, not knowing what I’m doing half the time... just softened a bit.

Also… yeah. I’m probably never tying anything that beautiful.