We'll make our homes on the water

Mara came up to visit on Saturday, so after I spent most of the morning procrastinating and one frenzied hour tidying up, she sat on my couch and I sat on my shoe chair and wondered aloud what to do this weekend. I don't know, she said. Want to go camping?

Well, sure, let's go.

So a few hours later, we were sitting in a tent, wondering aloud what to do this weekend. I don't know, she said. Want to go for a hike?

Well, sure, let's go.

So the next morning, we packed a bag with a light lunch and one water bottle and a trail map and set off for a stroll. Eight hours later we staggered back into camp, approximately five more steps from willing ourselves to die on the spot. Apparently Mara and I can both add "reading maps correctly" to our list of things we'll never be able to do before we die. We knew we were in for a few miles, but we figured on maybe six or so round trip. A bit more of a walk than we were used to, but still nothing too bad. As it turns out, it was six miles out to a stupid picnic table...which left us no option but to walk six miles back. With one bottle of water.

We did feel like superheroes afterwards, though. Stiff, aching, grouchy superheroes. I even got to call in to work today, which is always a good time.

I think I'm going to be a little distrustful of "hikes" for a while, though.