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Despite many, many, MANY possible and disasterous derails, camping this past weekend went smashingly.
It rained on Friday night, quite hard, but it magically stopped the second we pulled up to the camp site. I ran off the road at one point and almost whaled a tree, because my night vision does not combine well with rain, badly defogged windshields, no street lights to be found, and general car-tension. The Engineer yelled at me. I had it coming.
Miss Ella and Tony Smash are two of the best camping partners I've ever had, forgetting propane tanks and bringing the wrong tent notwithstanding. Seriously. Even the bad parts go smoothly with them. Also, sitting around the fire and laughing until I literally can not breathe is one of the best things in this world.
I went swimming in Lake Absegami, which I had to be forcibly removed from. I made friends with every daddy long-legger that came across my path, even the one who was on the toliet seat every single time I went into the bathroom. I saw a billion stars over my head and got dizzy trying to watch them. I was a shark. I was a Viper pilot shooting down Cylons. I found a purple bucket. I ate terrible ice cream and wonderful camp fire-cooked steak (done way past my liking, but still freaking bangin'). I lost a purple bucket. I wondered where all the hot dogs went, in song. I threw things at Tony. I chased the shade all afternoon. I worried about losing my muffler completely on the road, just casting it off like unwanted chaff. And I got a sun burn on one arm from standing on the side of the road.
When I came home, when I was finally able to actually sit down and rest after unloading the car, I gave Tinker the biggest hug ever because I missed him so much all weekend. He purred and headbutted me for half an hour because he is my friend. Then I passed out face down on the couch while attempting to watch Les Stroud go off the grid. Watching television face down generally doesn't work out much in my world, so I am unsure as to why I thought it would this time go round. I never learn.
Waking up at four in the morning, stiff with couch-sleep and one of the cats sleeping on my back, I staggered deliriously into the kitchen and smelled the left-over bag of marshmallows. They just don't smell the same at home as they do when camping. It's disheartening.
There's so much laundry to do, it's frightening. But, I'm not inclined to even touch the pile (but for moving it from my bed to the floor, then back to the bed again) for at least three more days while I recover.
When do we get to do this again?
It rained on Friday night, quite hard, but it magically stopped the second we pulled up to the camp site. I ran off the road at one point and almost whaled a tree, because my night vision does not combine well with rain, badly defogged windshields, no street lights to be found, and general car-tension. The Engineer yelled at me. I had it coming.
Miss Ella and Tony Smash are two of the best camping partners I've ever had, forgetting propane tanks and bringing the wrong tent notwithstanding. Seriously. Even the bad parts go smoothly with them. Also, sitting around the fire and laughing until I literally can not breathe is one of the best things in this world.
I went swimming in Lake Absegami, which I had to be forcibly removed from. I made friends with every daddy long-legger that came across my path, even the one who was on the toliet seat every single time I went into the bathroom. I saw a billion stars over my head and got dizzy trying to watch them. I was a shark. I was a Viper pilot shooting down Cylons. I found a purple bucket. I ate terrible ice cream and wonderful camp fire-cooked steak (done way past my liking, but still freaking bangin'). I lost a purple bucket. I wondered where all the hot dogs went, in song. I threw things at Tony. I chased the shade all afternoon. I worried about losing my muffler completely on the road, just casting it off like unwanted chaff. And I got a sun burn on one arm from standing on the side of the road.
When I came home, when I was finally able to actually sit down and rest after unloading the car, I gave Tinker the biggest hug ever because I missed him so much all weekend. He purred and headbutted me for half an hour because he is my friend. Then I passed out face down on the couch while attempting to watch Les Stroud go off the grid. Watching television face down generally doesn't work out much in my world, so I am unsure as to why I thought it would this time go round. I never learn.
Waking up at four in the morning, stiff with couch-sleep and one of the cats sleeping on my back, I staggered deliriously into the kitchen and smelled the left-over bag of marshmallows. They just don't smell the same at home as they do when camping. It's disheartening.
There's so much laundry to do, it's frightening. But, I'm not inclined to even touch the pile (but for moving it from my bed to the floor, then back to the bed again) for at least three more days while I recover.
When do we get to do this again?
