Wilderness Girl

Maybe one of you wives can give me some advice. It has to be quick though because the problem is going to be this weekend. Here’s my issue: my in-laws invited us to go on an overnight camping trip with them. (And everyone else in the state of TN that is remotely blood related.) Usually, I wouldn’t sweat this type of stuff cause I know my hubbie wants to hang with them about as much as I do. But, this time? He’s seriously thinking about it.

See, it all started early Sunday morning. 9:30 am my phone rings. This alone is enough to automatically piss me off. We have no kids and are not regular church-goers, so needless to say, they woke us up. And for what? To be guilted into an extended visitation? Fabulous. As soon as Andy got off the phone, he filled me in on the conversation. My reply was something to the effect of “OH, HELL TO THE NO!!! Over my cold, stiff, dead body. You can go, but my ass is staying at home.” We talked about it a little, then the subject was dropped. In my mind, anyway, apparently not so much in his.

We went to his parent’s house to give his mother a gift (I’m not a bad DIL, just a secretly snarky one) and Mrs. B asked us if we had thought about going. “Umm, yeah. We kinda have a wedding to be at that morning. And it’s out of town, so... we’re probably going to have to pass.” Probably, huh? Probably my ass. I know- Liar, Liar...well, my pants may be on fire, but they’ll be burning on my own damn couch.

Later, as we are plunked back down in front of the t.v., he looks at me and says, “I think we should go camping this weekend. It’ll be fun. “ However, when put to the test, he couldn’t say WHAT would be fun about it. I could though. Mosquitos, card games with your Aunt G, having to grill food for EVERYBODY ELSE, cause they have no idea how a grill works, and the prospect of being stuck in the woods with these people. Oh, and did I mention bees? I should cause they scare the beejeezus out of me. We’re talking, running blindly while slapping myself silly and jumping into a lake, ala Wile E. Coyote, scared.

This fear of bees or really, anything that stings, has been more than enough to cause previous camping trips to turn ugly fast. I hate the buzzing little bastards with a passion as hot as the lowest depths of hell. They terrify me. It’s been this way as long as I can remember and don’t bother telling me that if you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone. That’s a big fat lie and I’ll call you out on it. I’ve been stung. That shit hurts.

Where were we? Oh, yea, so now I’ve got to find a way to convince my husband that camping this weekend is a very bad idea. I’m just not sure how. He loves being outside. He loves the heat, bugs and sweaty hair that come with it. Ugh. So, girls? Any words of wisdom to get my way?