Let me count the ways:
- the dark (city dark is entirely different from country dark)
- the quiet (ditto the above)
- the chit chat (with the absence of electronic distractions, you are forced to actually converse with one another. What do you talk about?)
- the lukewarm hot food (nothing says camping like room temperature hot dogs)
- the lukewarm cold food (ditto the above but replace hot dogs with macaroni salad)
- sand in every orifice (there is nothing fun about excavating sand from the folds of my ears)
- dirty feet (yuck from the pedicure queen).
- no makeup (sorry, but it's necessary for me)
- early bedtime (bed at sunset? what am I, 3?)
- unable to cook (I'm aware that to some, this could be construed as a gift but I'm not some. And barbeque does not count as cooking)
- unable to clean (see sand and feet posts above)
- nature (I like my nature on the Discovery channel, thank you)
- noises (do you really need me to be asking "what's that?" every 10 minutes?)
- never completely comfortable (I could never really relax with all the above nonsense rattling around my head. Could you?)
- I have nothing else... I just hate having a weird number of these.
I've mentioned these things before but lately Scott's been talking about purchasing a cottage property. Just the property. Not the cottage. He says that in a few years we can put a trailer on it then a little house, then a cottage. So I think the plan basically means that by the time we retire we can be assured of something with a roof on the land. In the meantime we'd have our very own camping spot.
Don't get me wrong... I'm delighted about potentially getting it. I think it's cool that we could be the owners of waterfront property so close to the city. I just hope it doesn't cause too many arguments when I flatly refuse to sleep in a pitched tent on the property next summer. Anyway, it's all moot anyway until we actually get it. If we get it. I'm okay both ways.