I am going camping this weekend and am beyond excited about it. I haven’t been camping in years. Yes, I’m sad to admit that it’s been years.
Well, I guess that Joshua Tree a couple of months ago counts. But before that I can’t even remember the last time I went. High school? When one of my best friends and I planned a joint camping party that our parents were supposed to supervise but then my parents sort of bailed on it? Yeah, that was probably it.
And then college happend. Days filled with classes and work and weekends filled with homework and more work. Certainly no time to take a weekend off – especially when all those vacation days were saved for trips home.
This year there have been some failed attempts to go camping. Valentine’s weekend when it was supposed to rain but then it was a beautifully sunny day out but we’d already made other plans. And then weekend after weekend with something else going on. Nothing important, but something just big enough to keep us at home.
And now that we’ve set this weekend for a nice little backpack trip – nothing too big, just enough to wet our toes and get us back into Holy hell, this is fun! Let’s do this every weekend! sort of mentality. Waterfalls and long hikes. And, hopefully, no drunk people wandering by at 2:00 to wake us up with their hilarious (um, awful) stories of the night; or their fights. Did I mention we live next to a dive bar that it seems like everyone in our complex closes down four nights a week?
We’ve invited some people to join us – you know, in an effort to keep making friends. Not sure right now who will go, or how it will change the dynamic if certain people decide to attend. So far, though, one person has declined becuase he can’t afford all the beer he would need to spend one(!) night away from home. Perhaps that’s for the best though. I practically live in a frat house anyway, I don’t need that when I’m trying to escape.