Camping

I know someone who has made the choice, be it forced or not, to spend their summer camping. I'm not talking vacationing for a week or two or even a month. I'm not talking about a nice RV or even a tent trailer, I'm talking camping, in a tent! With no electricity or running water at the site itself. Seriously, a real camping adventure where you cook on a propane stove and wash dishes with water boiled on a campfire. Where basic hygiene involves a ten minute walk to the bathing facilities.

Rob and I were watching television the other night after hearing this and there was some guy that was taking women camping by gun point. Which of course is the only way you'll get me to go camping, by gun point. Granted he was a serial killer, which is another reason I don't like camping. People being eaten by bears and murdered. They call it roughing it. I mean if the world were to fall apart and I had to cook on propane, boil my water and sleep on the ground, I could do it. But by choice? Oh hell no.

So while I applaud his spirit and will be swinging by the campground for a game of wiffle ball on a field that has a replica of the green monster, my happy ass will be going home at night to my Bob O Pedic bed with my soft fluffy comforter sans bugs, unless someone has a gun.

Comments

Anonymous said…
*shudder* let us speak no more of this "camping." sounds dreadful.
May 29, 2008 at 8:56 AM
Anonymous said…
Yes, I agree Manager Mom, let us never speak of it again!
May 30, 2008 at 3:28 PM
Anonymous said…
I knew we were friends for a reason. Camping is so not on my list of things to do. Been there, done that, burned the t-shirt in the campfire.
May 31, 2008 at 8:15 AM
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