Wall of Text crits you for 60 hp. You have been warned.
It's true. I'm writing a blog post. Joining the blagosphere. I've hitched my wagon to the... bandwagon? Caught the blogging disease (I assume it's venereal) ((I also assume I can get away with saying that because no one actually reads this)).
Really though, I have one pseudo-funny story to tell, and I was too lazy to text it to the only people who might read this. It'll be a good barometer of who my true friends are. Out of my family members.
But first, a little background:
I typically (read: always) let Jes do all the packing of suitcases for the same reasons I typically let Mom load the dishwasher when we visit. 1) The unbelievably sophisticated spatial reasoning part of my brain does not extend its gifts to clothes or dish containers. 2) As previously mentioned, I'm lazy. 3) I believe it infuriates them when they see what a piss-poor job I've done, and they'll end up unloading everything in order to more efficiently load it, and that's just more work for them in the long run.
So really, I don't help because I love them.
I imagine there's a pretty good slogan for a business in there somewhere.
Anyways, Jes managed to pack like 10 days worth of clothes for both of us in a single suitcase. It's a large suitcase sure, but it's one that fits comfortably in the trunk of my Volkswagen Rabbit. I imagine several physicists and geologists would scratch their heads in wary disbelief at fitting so large an object into such an amazingly compact car, were they to read that sentence. Thankfully, they won't read this, so their psoriasatic (Firefox tells me that's not a word, but what do they know?) heads will go unscratched.
I considered this quite a feat, but Jes shrugged it off and told me that Cindy would be able to pack it all in a small backpack. Probably.
The whole point of telling you all that is to now tell you that upon Cindy's return from camping, I was asked to help unload the Ford Expedition she had packed.
The internet tells me that a 2007 Expedition weighs about 4,500 lbs. I unloaded at least twice that. I'm pretty sure she should've had a CDL and some sort of certification for driving that heavy.
While unloading, Jes and I had the following conversation. I had just discovered a new cache of goods.
ME: Holy crap! How does she do this?
JES: Do what?
ME: Cram all this stuff in here! Is that... are those... power tools?
JES: Well, yeah. They went camping.
ME: POWER TOOLS?
JES: James, they went camping.
ME: ... You're not making the compelling argument you think you're making.
Jes has since asked that I explain that the tools in question were power drills required for anchoring tents into the sand. Anchoring tents. Into sand. Power drills. Camping.
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What the what? Though I suppose we're not the best judges of what normal people take camping, since the only time I remember our family camping was for eagle scout purposes. So, once. But I definitely don't remember any power tools at that event!
ReplyDeleteAgreed. I'm definitely more of a Waterton-type camper, where I can be safely insulated from all that wilderness and character building.
ReplyDeleteI like camping and have been several times. I'm not going to lie...power tools are a great idea. I'll remember that for next time.
ReplyDeleteAlso - I definitely laughed out loud. You and Jes need to update regularly! I love reading both of you guys' (?????) posts!