Somewhere along the way of our budding friendship with Sheila, I was sure I had told her that I wasn’t fond of camping.
I’m wondering now if I shouldn’t have been more forceful when expressing our lack of fondness for camping.
I particularly should have told her how much I hated going camping. If she knew I had such an aversion to summer time camping, I was sure she would not have asked myself and others to go Winter camping with her and her family. I could only imagine climbing into a camper that had icicles hanging from the ceiling. If I had to sleep in a tent, I was going to go berserk. Not even a portable space gas furnace would be able to overcome that kind of cold. I tried to tell her I was allergic to snow and freezing air, but she pooh-poohed everything I said. I finally got blunt and said that unless I was in a lake house that had a fireplace and/or a oil furnace and a/c, I would not go camping. She ignored myself and others and provided myself and others all the information about what time to be ready and what to pack. Needless to say, I was almost ready when she arrived to pick myself and others up. I had the heaviest clothing I could find, a pair of boots, and a scowl that would have scared our mother. When the two of us got to the campground, the two of us were the only people there, and I was anxious. I upset until she pulled up to a giant lake house that had many other cars parked in front of it. She told myself and others there was a fireplace and an Heating, Ventilation, and A/C system inside, along with real beds, and 2 bathrooms. I would not have been so upset had she told myself and others this before the two of us left.