Keep Your Pants On

I decided the spend 2 nights in Morro Bay. I say “I”, because Mama TT usually panics when I ask her if she has an opinion. She usually doesn’t, but being put on the spot makes her nervous. Making all the decisions when I am alone is fantastic, but when I am with another person, it makes me feel like I am wearing my bossy pants. I am actually totally fine being the boss of people, when I am, in fact, the boss of people, like when, for example, I am getting paid to tell them what to do.

But when I am not being paid to run the show being the boss makes me feel weird. I think this is because I do have a natural tendency towards a massive superiority complex, and always think people should just listen to me. I have spent years trying to get that particular personality flaw under control, to varying degrees of success, depending on how much of a stake I have in someone not being a jackass.

Having Theresa with me is a good exercise in learning to trust people to voice their opinions, if and when they have them. As far as she has said, Theresa has little to no opinion, and has to this point, been perfectly content to come along for the ride. That in and of itself, is a hard thing for me comprehend. I am an opinated, neurotic control freak with the aforementioned superiority complex (but not in a sad way), and “along for the ride” is not how I operate. But I believe firmly in treating others the way I want to be treated, and since I hate being told what to do, I work very hard to be a reasonable, accommodating human being when forced to interact with others. I try not to care about things just to care about things, and instead temper my investment in other people’s affairs, so as not to be completely insufferable (not to mention exhausted). When others, like Theresa, are just like that naturally, and can go with the flow, I think the universe must be playing a trick on me. Surely no one is that chillaxed! But I would have to be a super big jerk face to insist someone has feelings that they don’t profess to have, so I just keep on wearing my bossy pants.

So, the decision to stay in Morro Bay was made. It had something to do with my mental and emotional exhaustion at driving down Highway 1, and my need to work out the melon sized stress ball that had settled in my torso. And the view from Morro Dunes RV park as well as the lethargic pace of the off-season tourist town, with its great salt water taffy and sea lions barking, seemed perfect for that.

Morro Rock, in Morro Bay, from our camp site

Morro Rock, in Morro Bay, from our camp site

But more than the exotic wildlife and candy, there were heated bathrooms, with clean showers like 20 steps from the trailer. And a nice laundry facility. Not to mention, a wi-fi connection that reached the trailer strongly enough to watch Netflix in the evening. To be honest, I was tempted to stay there until we died.

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