The gentle patter of constant rain…

The swirl of wind nearby…

The scurry of a small animal…

The uncomfortable chill of your bed…

The feeling of your pajamas sticking to you…

The suddenness of a flashlight being flicked on…

The mumble of confusion…

And, finally, an unpleasant exclamation.

Camping.

Yuck.

So not all camping ends up with you soaked in your sleeping bag at one in the morning because your tent’s waterproof liner… wasn’t.

And raccoons didn’t get your food in the cooler—but not for lack of trying.

And only one of the campsites next to you thought that they were at a beer garden.

And your home will seem so fabulous when you get there.  Your car will suffice right now!  (Why doesn’t this heater have a ‘paint-blistering’ setting?!)

You are ready to trade your soaked jammies for that heinous appliquéd kitty Christmas sweater.  Any piece of dry clothing would be preferable.  (Isn’t there a ratty old blanket in the trunk from when you moved into your first apartment?)  Are there any civilized coffee houses open at this hour?  Any uncivilized ones?  A shaft of guilt makes itself know as you realize that your husband is still out in the dark deluge, collapsing the tent.  You grumble a little while stuffing your blanket to the side and forcing open the door.

Camping .

Good times.

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