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Humor
I Don’t Understand Camping
The point of civilization was to get AWAY from nature, which was mostly trying to kill us.
My neighbor and his partner go someplace every Friday, and they come back Sunday evening. No, I’m not Rear Window-ing them, although I kind of am because my kitchen window looks out onto their back yard. It’s not like I have a choice — I have to look at them.
I assume my neighbor is going camping every weekend. I have no real basis to believe this, just as I had no basis to believe that he was a Jamaican drug lord. But still, the possibility planted itself in my mind.
My entire premise was based on the fact that his basement lights are on a lot at night, which means one of two things: he forgot to turn them off, or he’s operating a meth lab. There are no other options.
The fact that he’s an average-looking white dude living in rural Ohio did nothing to dissuade me from my theory.
I believe that they’re going camping every weekend because that’s what people do. Other people. Not me.
I don’t understand camping. Why would I leave the comfort of my own home to go to some other place which is similar to my home, except that it’s much smaller and much more uncomfortable and none of my stuff is…
