John loved to go fishing and camping, spending the night in the great outdoors. You know roughing it.
I love to rough it in a motel 6 or going out for the day for a picnic and returning home at night.
Hmmm, so I was able to beg my way out of this UNTIL John bought a camper. He said he bought it for me, so I could enjoy camping and fishing. Sure, and we have unicorns in the back yard.
Let me tell you I was not a HAPPY camper.
I didn't like feeling dirty all the time and I didn't like cooking over campfires. John wouldn't let me cook on the stove inside the camper because it would make it too hot to sleep in there during the night. The camper didn't have air conditioning. Once again this was before someone decided to add air conditioning to these things. Deep down inside I figured I was brought along as the chief cook and bottle washer. Hmmm,did I mention I was not a HAPPY camper.
I hope your not getting the wrong idea. I was not a city kid, I was raised in the small town of Elfrida just like my husband. I could kill bugs, spiders with the best of them and not throw a fit. Shoot snakes with my eyes closed. But I really wasn't into the camping thing like he was.
I just found it hard to sit for hours around a lake waiting for a fish to bite and then have to GUT it. UGH!!!
Tuna in a can was up my alley and not too often. I didn't really like fish. Mom would fix us fish sticks ever so often and we would put plenty of catchup on them. I was a meat and potato kind of person. Beef is what I was raised on. Give me a break.
So any way here we are with a camper (an old ford pick up with a camper on the back, it wasn't the shell kind. It was a hulking big camper with an itty bitty kitchen) and five kids now. The baby was a girl still in diapers with four older brothers. I know you are feeling sorry for her, but she could hold her own with her brothers when she learned to walk.
Our first trip in the camper was to a lake near us to fish for the weekend.
I didn't get much sleep that first night, I jumped at every sound and there is a lot of noise in the forest at night. So when day break finally came I sighed with relief. I could crawl out of the bed that I thought of as a torture chamber and make some coffee. But first I would have to get the fire outside going and make a trip to the bathroom. Yah, you know the kind they build in the camping areas of the lakes. Some are non flush you know. It took a while to get that stupid fire going.
While drinking a cup of coffee, I noticed some fishermen heading down to the lake and I remembered hearing the best time to catch fish was early in the morning.
I climb back into the camper and shake John's shoulder. "Are you suppose to fish early in the morning if you want to catch fish? I saw some fishermen heading down to the lake."
John rolls over and gives me a dirty look, "I never fish at this time of morning. It's the weekend and I can sleep in. Go away!"
I thought it over for a few minutes and shook his shoulder again, "Do you think this is why you never get any fish? I remember your brother mentioning when he goes fishing he goes out early and he catches fish."
"Look at this way honey. If I don't catch fish you don't have to cook and eat them." John winked and rolled back over. Soon his snores fill the camper. I look at him grumpily, envying the way he can sleep any where.
The boys woke up and I fixed breakfast outside for them. Feed the baby and got her dressed for the day.
John finally crawls out of bed about ten and I fix him something to eat. I tell him the kids and I had gone for a walk and we found a little cove where we could play in the water.
Needless to say John is a little upset I woke him up this morning and that the kids had been noisy while he was trying to sleep. He wasn't able to sleep as much as he wanted.
Soooo, things are a little strained. Well, we lasted the weekend and on Sunday I am helping John load the camper to head home. I am all smiles and trying to push everyone to move faster, so we can leave.
The fishing poles John had brought keep getting in the way and John puts them on the roof of the camper to get them out of the way while we get ready to head home.
By this time I am a sleep deprived crazed woman. I can hardly wait to get home to take a shower and sleep in a comfortable bed.
I'm pushing for us to leave and John just wants me to be quiet.
I tell him I will not speak to him ever again and I climb into the cab of the pick up with the baby in my arms.
John has to finish loading by himself and soon he crawls into the cab to start the pick up and we take off.
I was so proud of my self for not talking to him. But of course as usual during the trip home I forget I wasn't talking to John and I am talking away when I notice a sparkle of laughter in his eyes. I look at him and demand to know what he is finding so funny.
He laughs telling me I never last very long not talking to him. I give him a narrow eye look and turn away thinking in my mind I WILL NOT TALK TO HIM FOR THE REST OF THE TRIP and I have a secret. A wicked smile curves my lips. It didn't last long, before I knew it I am pointing out something and talking away.
We arrive home and John is unloading the camper and he comes in to ask where are the fishing poles.
I look at him calmly, "You mean the ones you put on top of the camper?"
John's eyes narrow and through gritted teeth he says, "Why didn't you remind me they were up there?"
I look at him and smile sweetly, "I wasn't talking to you, remember."
John mumbles something under his breath and walks back outside.
I turn back to feeding the baby and figured I have proof now, I can stop talking a little while.
Don't worry John had more fishing poles before he went fishing again. John decided he and the boys would go camping by themselves and I would stay home with the baby. If I felt like it, I would drive up to the lake for the day and have my picnic with them and then baby and I would return home that evening. Ah, heaven!
I find the arrangement great. I hate camping!!!!
Do you like to camp? Do you share the chores around the campsite?
Let me know about some of your camping horror stories.
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