SunFun Sucks

Okay. I learned a lesson on this vacation. Don't go for the value. Go for the luxury. I also learned that signs go both ways. It was a sign that the house was available. It was also a sign that the key didn't work. And Juni had to poop. Both signs read "do not enter. there's poop inside."

SunFun seemed great on paper: Two queen beds, one bunk, bedding included; Two full baths, one with a jacuzzi tub, towels included; A short path walk to the beach, A wrap-around deck on the roof with a hammock and picnic table, Bikes. Grills. Games.

What more could we ask for? Well, for starters, how about a house that DOESN'T smell like a dead rat? That's right. You read it. the whole house smelled like a dead rat. Or, as the maintenance guy put it, mold resulting from a leak in the dishwasher that the owner fixed with duct tape.
And it gets better. Apparently we were the only chumps they could find to rent SunFun for quite a while. The house needed some serious help. On top of the dead rat smell it was musty. Stale. Damp. The walls were dirty and in need of a paint job 4 years ago. The couches were wooden and from 1975. Uncomfortable. The bedding consisted of sheets washed 3,000 times and one flat pillow. Juni's bunk beds were meant for miniatures. The rooms were so small I had to crawl over the bed to get to the dresser. The bathtub had peeling stickers in the bottom. The glasses were plastic. The bikes were rust buckets.
And did I mention that in Jasen's rush to pack our entire house that he threw in a rotten onion which exploded, dumped the bag of sugar on the bread, and that the milk leaked everywhere? Yeah. That happened, too. But I digress.
I picked up the phone to call the rental agency, and surprise surprise. The phones don't work. Oh...and one more thing...the path to the beach hadn't been used in about a decade - it was overgrown with prickly cactusy plants that bit juni and stuck inside his comfy pants.
So I call from my cell and head outside for some fresh 90-degree air. I found the shed, and found the grill. Which was pretty much a rust bucket. The grate was rusted and useless. Awesome. I'd vetoed Jasen's plea to bring his Smokey Joe in lieu of my super-cool beach chair that's also a backpack.
So I popped a Xanax to stop the panic rising in my throat from the thought of spending 5 days and 4 nights in this dump, and head to the nearest grocery store for anything to make this house livable. My thought was to buy so many candles that they overpowered the carnage smell. I was going to need a lot of friggin candles.
I called CeCe. I needed to vent. And tell her I may very well be found the next morning suffocated from the smell.
I bought 5 candles, bread, pub mix and a grill grate. Oh...and a light-up plastic beer mug. I needed some sort of parting gift to say "I'm so sorry, honey, for spending our hard-earned money on this place" and the mug was the best I could do in the middle of BFE.
I'm driving back to SunSucks when Jasen calls. The agency had a cancellation, and we're getting bumped up. Really up. For the same price. Jackpot!