Sunday, April 26, 2009
What Have I Done . . .
This is what arrived in the mail the other day. Two sleeping bags and a tent. It looks foreign and ominous to me, like the equipment a serial killer uses. And to think I have no one to blame but myself.
I’m approaching the ripe old age of 45 and wanted to signify this momentous occasion by doing something out of my comfort zone; camping. So, this summer a group of us are heading to Catalina Island to basically see if I survive.
I’m a hotel girl at heart. My idea of roughing it means no room service and fluffy robes. I don’t know what a chemical toilet is, but I do know that I will be packing an industrial strength air freshener. There’s a reason we evolved from Cave-Man days; we got smart and I enjoy modern inventions such as plumbing, electricity and 800 thread count sheets.
But, I am told I will ‘love’ camping. Apparently there will be great conversations around the campfire about the meaning of life. Well, we do that pretty regularly whenever we get together. So, maybe I’m going to love hearing my husband complain about carrying all our shit, I mean gear? Or maybe I’ll enjoy the hour long bus ride on a dirt road to the campsite. As you can tell, I’m a bit skeptical.
To the friends who talked me in to this, and you know who you are, you could sell ice to an Eskimo. I am trying to keep an open mind, as should you if I cancel the campsite and decide a weekend in Vegas can be just as adventurous as camping.
One of my fears, other than the snakes, spiders and other campers who will complain that we are too loud; is that I will be so obnoxious and whine so much that I will be voted off the island. Then again, that would mean I could go stay in a . . . hotel. Food for thought.
Hopefully I’ll survive this camping experience and keep my marriage and friendships in tact. To be continued . . .