Being as it was only 110° today, after dinner, I decided to go out and work on getting the trailer ready to go on Friday.

I started filling up the clean water, and then I wandered inside.

I checked that the fridge was working—almost stuck my damp hand to the metal shelf in the freezer—yup, it’s working.

I poured the green stuff into the toilet, and then tried to run the water to wash it down. Duh, dummy, the pump’s off.

So I went to turn the pump on, and nothing. No light at the switch, no ominous gurgle, no “bzzzt;” nothing.

“This is not good,” I thought.

I tried to use my brain, but it was really hot in there (maybe 120°?) and it had shorted out.

I thought, “Oh, you idiot, of course it doesn’t work! There’s still not enough water in the tank!” And I went outside to pull some weeds and cool off while the tank filled.

But then I went back inside, and still there was nothing. Pictures of pump replacements were roiling through the inside of my head where my brain used to be. I have rather vivid memories of fixing the pump in the old trailer, but I don’t even know where this one is.

So I started looking for it. I opened every damn cupboard, pulled off every velcroed access panel, and looked thoughtfully around as if it were something I’d misplaced. No pump.

“Ah-HA!” the light bulb went on. I still had the manuals, and it only took me three tries to find those. I sat on the steps in the sun to read them, because it was cooler.

No plumbing schematic, but it did mention something about a fuse. But while I was looking for the pump access, I also hadn’t found anything that resembled a fuse panel, although I did find a remote-controlled front loader and a mosquito coil.

I looked around again, this time really hard. And the gods of Home Improvement, RV Division, took pity on me and lo, the light did shine above my head and the panel did become apparent. Yeah, right in front of me, below the fridge.

So I read the fuse list and yanked out a couple. I hollered at the kids that I’d be right back and to not kill or maim each other while I was gone, and headed down to the hardware store for replacements. I thought I’d be canny and buy several of each size to have on hand, but I forgot that the town had already done rolled up the streets, and the hardware store was closed.

Craaap. If I left it until tomorrow, surely Murphy would have his way with me, and it would actually be the pump gone bad, not a fuse, and I’d have one less day to fix it before the trip. Fortunately, my luck seems to be corrugated today, and the auto-parts store was still open. I bought my assortment, the kid behind the counter who is also my across-the-street neighbor promised to use his discount for me on my brake pads (but probably only because he hadn’t seen me fish out the original fuses from my bra, where I’d stashed them when I left the house without a pocket to my name), and I was off like a prom dress.

Woohoo! It was the fuse. The pump’s all worky now, and I can continue my usual preparations of overpacking and overcooking. Pasta salad for twenty, anyone?