This weekend, in my mummy bag.

The forecast called for cold nights this weekend in the city, so I knew it would be colder where we were camping.  I took my mummy bag accordingly, a sweet army surplus bag I inherited/stole from my Dad.  My usual sleeping bag would hold two people.  While comfortable, it’s not a great option when the temperature dips under 50.  With this particular mummy bag, you really need to pull it up over your head even if you’re not that cold.  You can unzip it a bit, if that helps.  I did.  It was chilly but not cold when I went to bed.  But each night I woke up with my face sticking out of the bag, all zipped up, my large nose very cold to the touch.  It was awesome.  I actually crawled entirely inside and made a tent of hot breath and my hairy arms.

Friday night, I used my cell phone as an alarm clock.  I wanted to get up first, get a shower, make coffee, etc.  I had it inside my sleeping bag so as not to wake anyone else up.  But when it went off, I was on top of my arms, which were asleep and numb.  I could not move them to shut the dang thing up.

Maybe I’m the only one that thinks this was funny.

I damaged a few pieces of gear this weekend, which usually drives me batty.  But I didn’t really care.  Could it be that I am getting closer to relating to my possessions like a normal person?  At least, the utilitarian ones?

I figured out the source of the bruise on my rear: when I kept falling on top of my metal flashlight during a skit about beans.  The flashlight looks like it got run over by a small car or several bikes from my big butt hitting it repeatedly on top of rocks.

Come on, that’s funny.