Digging Out of the Talking-Trap

I fell into a trap recently. A talking-trap. A guy-who-wouldn’t-stop-talking-to-me-no-matter-what-I-did trap. It happened while Hubbie and I were vacationing in a rented RV up in the wine country. It turns out the small-ish living space inside the RV had nothing on the teensy space outside of it. Case and point? Here’s a photo of our RV. Right next to ...
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