When we got there we set up under the threat of rain but manage to get our gear in order before any major wetness ensued.
In fact, we managed to enjoy our first beer of the trip and most of dinner before all hell broke loose.
It rained . . .
hard . . .
all . . . night . . . long.
At some point at some ridiculously dark hour I heard hubby fumbling and stumbling around inside the tent.
I had to pee for hours but the pitter patter of lotsa little raindrops on the top of the tent was about as good a reason as any to stay zipped in and suffer through insistence of my bladder that it was really REALLY full.
So, as he was exiting the relative warmth and comfort of our nylon and mesh enclosure I followed him.
I couldn’t ignore my need any longer.
Being a girl, I can’t easily stagger to the nearest tree to relieve myself like my hubby can.
No, I have to wander in the dark over the river, through the woods, up hill through the snow (both ways) to go to the campground’s bathroom.
Anyhoo . . . flash forward . . .
We’re back in the tent getting all snuggly warm again in our king-size double-wide sleeping bag.
Hubby looked at the clock: 5:30 AM . . . a dark, drippy, damp, foggy 5:30 AM.
He was like, “I’m never going to get back to sleep.”
So much for sleeping in on vacation. **sigh**
Being a lovey dovey mush hound, I said, “I love you.”
“I love you more,” he replied.
“I love you more.”
“No, I love you more!”
It went on like this for a while, then I said, “Let’s have sex.”
“Now? Before I’ve had coffee?? Are you trying to kill me?!” was the response.
“Yeah, let’s have sex.”
“See, that proves it! I really DO love you more!”
I was still pretty tired really wanted to go back to sleep for a while. “Okay, I’ll stop talking now so we can go back to sleep.”
He said, “Why don’t you keep talking . . . that way I’m sure to fall back to sleep.”