Feeding the camping habit
The card arrived, by mail, sometime last week. Sat around on the dining room table, where it reappeared periodically over the next few days, according to the rhythm of daily living. Not important, in the greater scheme, but still, an invitation. And so tonight we went as invited guests.
To a camping goods store… guess we’ve spent enough there over the last couple of seasons to be worth including on a very special list. A “come as you are, and bring money” summons. After all, clothing was on sale. Along with arbaletes, and tents, and a whole cornucopia of interesting gadgets.
I confess, it was fun. So many campground memories, mixed with an occasion to upgrade and add to and simply buy whatever catches my eye. I didn’t of course. Except for that camping chair, to match the one we bought last spring. I was the odd man out when we played Musical Chair around the campfire. No more; I’m equipped for the next time.
The arbalete was a temptation. So was that kayak with the nifty flotation chambers. And the binocular shoulder harness – maybe I need one of those! I ignored the trendy coats and vests and water repellant pants; rain has its own charm.
The retailers of the world have the psychology of their trade covered. Why wouldn’t I want to shuck off the responsibility of my regular job and spend the rest of the year camping? Just show me the stuff, in a well lit, dry, breeze-free showroom, and let me fill in the blanks. Just in closing, that metre wide frying pan was far beyond my needs.
