Camping for Wussies

This weekend we went camping.

Anyone who knows me, knows I'm a terrible camper.

First of all, I'm a germophobe. Huge germophobe. Can't stand germs, freak out from germs, run screaming into the forest kind of germophobe.

That means bugs, reptiles, whatever- really gross me out when I have to sleep with them.

Second of all, I do somewhat well with the outdoors when I have a place I can escape from nature.

We assumed (erroneously) that we'd be in a nice cabin with electricity and running water.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!! Excuse the maniacal laughter.

What we got was a glorified tent.

I've been tent camping exactly one time in my life. A tent would have been better than what we got, because what we got was dust, pollen, and mice (and who knows what all else). I was told in some of the cabins the mice were living INSIDE the "mattresses", which shall forever after be referred to as "mice habitats".

The grand total was a major allergy attack that sent my body almost immediately into a severe sinus infection. This made it even more difficult to deal with camping.

Even more humiliating was knowing that all of the children were doing so much better than I was with the camp. My own daughter is a camper, she's got it in her blood now, and I'm not entirely sure where that comes from. The first words out of her mouth as we were pulling away to go home (yay, happy dance, joy joy!) were "When can I come back?"

Next time, I'm making sure I've got all of the correct camping provisions. I will no longer believe the "packing list" they provide as our guidelines. I will create "Wendy's packing list for camping" which will include everything from a lantern to a huge box of Claritin.

And a clean suit.