I’ve spent the past four nights in a tent…with Gil, the kids and one of our dogs. I have one more to go.
I like camping and roughing it and all that, but I think three nights is my max.
On Day 2, I made the mistake of sharing with Gil that I was enjoying this family-only vacay, and he got excited and booked two additional nights. He “surprised” me with this news yesterday at breakfast.
My anxiety got the best of me this morning, and I decided to scrub both kids in the communal shower. When I returned to the campsite, waterlogged and edgy, Gil said, “Why are you so ornery? You said you were having fun?”
Why yes, Dear, I was having fun, but I left for this little trip with three nights in my head. I hate to sound like a spoiled brat, but I just finished night number FOUR and I have one more to go — not to mention that the first two nights were rainy.
It will be fine. The weather’s good — a bit warm and buggy for camping, but I can do this. I just needed a moment. Perhaps blogging will help.
The sand gnats were eating me, so I’m taking refuge in our truck. Gil took the kids down to the beach and I decided to stay at the campsite to regroup (or rather regain my sanity.) I’m 75 pages into a book I picked up at Dollar General (I know!! The cover sucked me in) and thus far, there is no plot.
Before I moved to the truck, I was sitting by the fire reading when our neighbor lady who hasn’t bothered with a bra since she arrived wandered over and said, “Them kids yours or just his?”
“They’re also mine…”
“Huh…well they don’t look nothin’ like you.”
Now, what does a person say to that?
Had she asked on Day 2, I might have been nicer, but this is Day 5. I think I grunted, shot her a dirty look and returned to my book.
She stuck her cig back in her mouth and returned to her campsite.
Thanks for listening and enduring my grouchiness. What are your thoughts on camping? How many days before you’re emotionally tapped out?