Just Relax

Buckle up your seatbelts, folks. The Scasta Family Vacation will kick off about lunchtime Friday afternoon. And I will probably be calling for help sometime about one o’clock or so.
My wife came up with the idea of going camping for a couple of days, to celebrate Father’s Day. Here’s the problem- I don’t like camping. I’m not an outdoor, woodsmen, campfire kind of guy. My idea of the perfect Father’s Day would be to actually sit down on the couch for a few minutes, maybe grill something on the pit, and spend all day opening presents.
We bought a travel-trailer about a year ago, and her and the kids want to take it out this weekend. I’ve never hauled one around or set it up before, so this should be quite the adventure.
Let’s compare the two ideal days, shall we?
Open a present, walk to the kitchen for something to eat, come back to the couch, open another present, walk back to the kitchen, come back to the couch, open another present, change the channel on the t.v., open another present, etc. See how enjoyable that sounds?
Now let’s compare that to what’s really going to happen.
Go hook up trailer to Tahoe, break out in a sweat because it a gazillion degrees outside. Catch a finger in the trailer hook, scream like a girl. Start heading for the lake, blow a tire fifteen miles into the trip. Narrowly avoid a huge wreck because trailer is flailing around in the wind. Call roadside assistance, sign away next three years of income to help pay for that.
Arrive at the campsite, spend three hours setting up trailer. Start sweating again, because it’s still a gazillion degrees outside. Find out that something- hot water heater, air conditioner, water- doesn’t work. Spend the rest of the evening mad.
Wake up way too early, take kids fishing. Spend thirty bucks at the bait shop on silly stuff you don’t need. Walk a mile to the good fishing spot, break out in a sweat from walking because it’s already a gazillion degrees outside.
Fish for three hours without a single bite, and watch my son pull in fish after fish the whole time. Catch hook in finger trying to take a fish off of my daughter’s line. Explain for the 100th time why we are throwing the fish back instead of keeping and cleaning them.
Spend half the next day packing everything back up, and start driving back home. Fifteen miles into the return trip, call roadside assistance because the Tahoe is overheating from pulling the trailer. Sign away three more years of income.
Wake up Monday morning tired as Hell from the “relaxing Father’s Day weekend”.