We Survived Camping . . . Just Barely

We got wet, we got dirty, and the kids had a fricking blast. They think camping is the greatest thing that ever happened to them. Mom and Dad - eh, not so much. But, c'est la vie.

When we arrived early Friday afternoon, I wanted to set up camp right away; Spousehole did not. We muttered loving things such as "Bitch" and "fucking asshole" under our breath at one another and we set up camp. Boy helped. He's such a good little helper when he wants to be:The rain held off until Saturday late afternoon. Then it poured pretty much constantly until we left around noon on Sunday. Fun, fun, fun. The kids thought playing in the rain was wonderful. Sleeping in the leaky tent, less wonderful. Imagine how much less wonderful, had they been deprived of an air mattress, like I was. Both nights. And I have the sore hip bones to prove it. You'd think my fat would be a sufficient cushion against the hard ground, but you would be wrong. Very wrong.

Then there was the time around the big campfire when my friend C asked loudly, "Hey, how come neither of you guys are wearing your wedding rings?" with about 25 people sitting around us. That was fun. Real fun.

I later confided to a friend about my extramarital adventures as we sat in the rain watching our kids play. That didn't really turn out well. She ended up trying to determine from our astrological signs whether I should be with Spousehole or PiC. I tried to explain that that was stupid and pointless because (a) astrology is stupid and pointless and (b) I plan to spend my life with Spousehole. PiC is a momentary diversion, nothing more. She thinks I'm deluding myself if I think 2 people can have sex and be friends and not have something more develop. That's exactly what I think, so whatever. She also wants me to talk to her psychic. Remember folks: we were having this conversation at church camp. I have the weirdest freaking friends. A Christian who believes in astrology, tarot cards, and psychics (she goes to two different psychics. Second opinion, I guess). Then again, I was discussing my adultery at church camp. We're all going to Hell (which is right outside Ann Arbor, in case you didn't know).

So the kids had a great time, but Mom and Dad feel like we've been rode hard and put up wet.¹ Normally I like feeling like I've been rode hard, but no one wants to be put up wet, you know?

¹This phrase refers to riding your horse until he is exhausted, then putting him up in his stall without brushing him or cooling him down. It's horse mistreatment. I was just alerted to fact that not everyone is familiar with this phrase. Sorry, it was a staple around my house growing up.