As I unpacked the clothes, I could still smell the campfire smoke that had seemingly woven itself into the threads of our sweaters and bug spray containing so much DEET that even the mosquitos increased their risk of getting cancer . Sand and beach stones fell out of tiny pockets and even in the much larger pockets that swore to keep the “awesome finds” safe. Shawn chose a new camp ground this year and I was leery since the great “Nipple Necrosis” of 2013. It was so cold at Lake Superior that my brother in law’s mustache will never look the same. I felt bad for Shawn because we all hated him for the seven days we were there.
We are all friends now.
Our holiday looked promising as we drove into the entrance and parked at the registration office right in front of a warning sign that pointed to various areas of the bush.
The campground newsletter had an entire page devoted to those bastardly “leaves of three” just in case you were wondering where that herpetic looking rash (not that I’d know what that looks like) came from. It was a good thing that we could retreat to this place every day.
People shudder when we say that we are trying our all at playing survivor for an entire week; pioneering the shit out of life. We laugh because we have a traveling kitchen and beer. Know those bears from the toilet paper commercials that wipe their asses with delicate cashmere? Well, they don’t know luxury because they have to poop outside. We had actual running toilets and showers that were sand blasted at least three times a day.
Camping morphs us into people that got lost amongst the constant whirring of responsibilities. We become seemingly weightless even while sunken deeply into a lawn chair.
There are no inhibitions when you’re camping.
Don’t be such a bitch. Get on that.
Despite the thunderstorms that helpfully pointed out the places where our camper leaked, it was a good holiday and Shawn was able to breathe a little bit easier this year.
We sort of loved him a little more this time around.
Ten Things of Thankful:
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10:
No poison ivy rashes
I’d put up the link badge but for some reason it won’t let me copy the code…copies the entire site…so I’m just putting the link…because screw it…I have laundry to do.