Trip Day the third: In which I lose my book, and fall behind a day in updates

A plinking Jack Johnson song wakes me, and I'm so glad it's raining. My body's so stiff and sore from yesterday's workout, jogging would be half-hearted if it didn't kill me.
In the front room it seems Donna has purchased three plush rugs from the auction; they match the house really well. She's painting the hall when I get up, and I feel really lazy but, meh, It's vacation, right?
We're headed to Donna's for breakfast with Mike's grandparents, but I wouldn't hold my breath till we leave...
I'm surprised to find that I'm homesick, already tired of sharing space with people who have different habits.
We arrive at Mike's grandparents. Really great people, lots of old stories, His uncle just had an aneurysm, they say, but I cannot tell, he seems tougher then most people I know. His Grandpa dropped us off at the base, Mike needs a computer with access to DND files, but we discover it is closed down. Walking to the central base (we were at a satellite compound) we pass a mental hospital with bits of plastic bag littering the lawn. I am disgusted until closer inspection reveals them to be tiny white morning glory. Charming.
On the base I peruse the RCR museum, entranced by old rifles, maps, and uniforms. It saddens me to know I will never be part of this world, but it's an incredible look at the past. Anyone interested in photos will be satiated upon my return.
The afternoon holds a childish delight; Novack's. A building full of traveling and camping supplies, from top to bottom. I pick up hand sanitizer, a money belt and some Unhol(e)y socks. I vow my next camping trip will be a backpacking one. Their displays desperately make me want to go camping in the woods. I would spend all day here, and all my savings too, but we tear ourselves away, wrapping the evening up with Ratatouille and Die hard.
I already knew Die hard was good, had seen it before, wasn't worth seeing twice, though, but Ratatouille was fabulous! Very cute, made me really want to eat something well prepared, or cook, but few deep laughs. Mostly tread lightly on my brain with little tiny rat feet.