That's right, folks. I'm off to go camping for the next 2 nights. We're going to Martin's Cove in Wyoming, and I'm going to sleep in a tent.
When I told my mom this the other day, she just laughed and said, "You're going camping? You're tenting?!" Then she laughed a little harder, a little longer. I rolled my eyes and agreed how surprising it was to me, too.
But it's time for me to put aside my ingrained distaste of camping, grown from 6 summers of Girls Camp in Wisconsin humidity, with Wisconsin mosquitoes, and try it again. Who knows, maybe camping in sporadic Wyoming weather, with bears and rattlesnakes will turn me into more of an "outdoorsy" person.
I told my brother today on the phone that I considered roughing it as much as possible so that maybe I could keep feeling justified in disliking camping by having a miserable experience. He laughed at me, stopped for a second as the sensibility of my plan sunk in, then laughed harder at me for even considering such a rational idea.
But it will be fun. I'll be with some of my favorite people. Some girls promised me we could tent near each other so I could enjoy their cocktails and fancy glasses with them as they "glamp" it up - it's a real thing, friends, look it up. And the purpose of the trip is good, so I can at least appreciate the point of being there. And if I need to, I can always go sleep in someone's car. So I should be fine.
We'll see you Saturday! If I haven't been eaten by a bear or dropped off a cliff, of course...
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