Wrong time of year
The hunting/fishing/camping show is “on” in town this weekend. A chance to see all kinds of new equipment, watch dog training demos, go fishing in a swimming pool. And zero interest on the part of my family.
We camp, every year. We’ve all fished enough to discourage ourselves from giving up the “day job” and turning pro. The cost was no worse than a trip to a fast food restaurant. Still, zero interest.
Maybe, although this is an unscientific analysis, the accumulation of snow outside has something to do with it. My youngest did tell me that it was too cold. Did he think I wanted to GO camping, instead of CONSIDER camping? Was the day-to-day of training our own dog already a case of sensory overload?
I guess that we’ll do like other years. We’ll wait until just before the date of departure, do a fast trip to Latulippe where the tent room will resemble a sauna, buy something untested and head on down the road. Maybe that’s the true incentive to go camping; the idea that we impose our own sense of adventure upon the adventuring.
