Freezing One's Bewtox... Continued

Now those of you who know me know I loath camping. If you look in the dictionary under "city girl" you'll find a picture of me. Right next to my Auntie Charline, my cousin Julie, my other Auntie Mendy, my cousin Reann... I think you get the picture.

In other words. I come by it honestly.

I don't just loath camping, but loath with a Grande Passione. In fact, I’ve managed to avoid it entirely for a number of years now. My idea of roughing it is staying at a 2 star hotel.

So, you will understand that, perhaps, I am a bit biased when I recount my tales of MFC. But I made a conscious decision to go this year despite my extreme dislike of this particular type of recreation. I wanted to spend time with my family, see the beach, and visit some old friends who now live in Seaside.

I think I had tried to put out of my mind the downside of camping: bugs, sand everywhere, nasty bathrooms, smoke, and freezing one's bewtox clean off. Though I tried very hard not to be a Whiner, as the evening progressed I was quickly reminded of all of the above. Especially when I got into my tent and found everything damp and covered in sand. Oh, yes, and I shivered the night away instead of sleeping.

Now I remember why I don't like camping.

Also, camping and jet lag really don't mix.

Maybe things would look better in the morning...