My youngest just got home from a summer working at camp.
I wanted everything to be nice and clean and lovely.
But instead I have just opened a fabulous private beach
And renamed her Sandy.
There is always one black garbage bag where all evil lies. In its darkness and heaviness resides the wet, the dirty, the forsaken, the muddy, the confused. No one wants to open it. No one knows what to do with it. It smells like a dead otter.
Those of you presently negotiating separation agreements should include pick up from camp as a hard and fast rule for your ex. Act like you are giving up the most nostalgic, precious thing but offering it as a peace treaty.
They will accept it with appreciation and gratitude.
And completely forget about the laundry.
Until it’s too late.
Speaking of wet, take a look at how we stay cool at my camp. And I make it my business to not send home anything evil. I should get a tip.