The Great Outdoors

So in a little over a week I am leaving for the swamps of Mississippi (I know you all just spelled that in your head while reading it, it's fun, isn't it?) to help with the rebuilding effort after Katrina. I mention this, not to pat myself on the back, but because of a rather startling realization that I had last night: I don't like camping.

While the thought of living in a "Tent City" for a week at first gave me lovely visions of Mother Teresa and Calcutta, I've since come to the conclusion that it will be like a Prebyterian Woodstock. Without the music, but surely with the mud and bird-sized mosquitos. Being a child of the 80s, I've never wanted to go to Woodstock, as hemp smells funny and I find showering to be pleasant.

So, in the coming week, I am girding the loins, so to speak (that's an awful phrase, btw) and buying my weight in batteries so as to have as many of the comforts of home as possible.

Did I mention I won't be able to charge my cell phone? Heaven help us all.