Boy Genius is making noises about wanting to go camping again. I don’t know if it’s the pollen clogging his brain or that last time I electrocuted him, but he’s under the impression it would be fun.
Like a bonding experience or…something.
Honestly, it’s not a total surprise. Every few years he gets the need to urinate on bushes or whatever and he decides we should go. Personally, I’d rather dig my eyes out with spoons, but because I’m lucky enough to be married to a guy who not only goes to horse shows with me, he also helps, I make sympathetic noises.
Then I change the subject.
Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I said I was lucky. I didn’t say I was a saint.
Thing is, BG’s from Maine so I don’t think he can actually help the urge to go camping. It’s, like, a biological imperative. I get it. I’m from South, which often gives me the urge to put my washer and dryer on the front porch.
Point is, I refrain.
Interesting side note: whenever I bring up how BG’s working out his Maine DNA, he likes to remind me that Meg Kassel is also from Maine and I think her ideas are made of awesome. This is true. They’re awesome because Meg is made of awesome. She also comes to Maine by way of Jersey so she’s exempt from this camping stuff.
Plus, whenever Meg and I decide to bond it usually involves air-conditioning, carbs, and talking for so long that my iPhone overheats. So, yeah, I may get brain cancer, but that’s better than some protozoa crawling up my urethra because I bathed in a lake.
I think.
Anyway, it’s not like I’m not outdoorsy. Wonder Pony lives outside and I go see her all the time. Plus, BG and I get drunk on our back porch, which is basically the same thing as camping so I understand the appeal.
No, really, I do.
It’s about peace and quiet and eating beans straight from the can. Which, if you get rid of the peace and quiet, is how BG and I spent most of our twenties. But, bottom line, if the outdoors are so great, why are the bugs always trying to come inside?
Exactly.
Plus, camping’s expensive! You have the tent, the sleeping bags, the backpacks…you get the point. Sure Tempi has more costume changes than Cher’s Farewell Tour, but, you know, she needs that stuff. What would the other horses say if her blankets didn’t coordinate with her saddle pads?
Yeah, Boy Genius didn’t buy that line either, but he’s a good sport about it. To compensate, I offered to go to a computer convention with him next weekend. I probably should have picked the camping. There’s nothing quite like being the only girl in a ginormous hotel conference room full of computer geeks. It’s not that they haven’t seen women before. It’s just that it’s rare they’re close to one that isn’t pixilated. Last time, a bunch followed me and we wove up and down the aisles together. Looked like we were marching against eczema…or baths. Like, for reals, those guys stank.
It’s still better than risking the protozoa though.
This article was originally posted on the DoomsDaisies blog.
