From camping. And “civilization” means a few very crazy weeks at work, including a VERY last-minute site-visit tomorrow when I was hoping to work from home and continue the fight against getting sick.
Autumn is here, though, and that is damned fine.
And my waistpack smells like campfire, after my friend Zack and I sat around one last night for 4-5 hours, including melting two glass rootbeer (yes, ROOTbeer) bottles in the center/coals of said fire. For the record, it was Zack’s idea. I thought they’d explode, even empty.
I also kinda lost my cool and yelled [shortly] at a few kids who, in my defense, totally deserved it and needed to wake up a little to unexpected pains in the ass that come with being an adult and sometimes come when you’re fifteen. I think it worked for the time, and there were/are no hard feelings. Unless there’s a heartless revenge headed my way. In which case, it did not, in fact work.
I am deliriously tired.
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