EMMA
I arrived at St. Agnes the next morning, feeling fresher and more myself. If I wasn't a whole new woman, at least I was one who had gotten a solid night's sleep, thanks to hours of hard labor and several glasses of wine.
And if my new home had seemed a little less cozy in the harsh morning light than it had by the glow of the lanterns the night before, I was in a better place to square my shoulders and get on with it, even if that meant using the dreaded composting toilet and showering with my new camping equipment. Since the solar panels hadn't had time to work overnight, I cheated and warmed two gallons of water on my stove to use in the shower. The result might not have been the kind of experience I'd have had at a five-star hotel, but it did the job.
What I hadn't taken into consideration was that I couldn't use my blow dryer. After a little bit of deliberation, I managed a French braid, which looked neat and efficient even if it wasn't the most flattering style.