just completed another weekend of diving in Ontario. It is still raining in Ontario. All weekends that God takes the good and I am in Ontario, is the fleet. It's funny when camping in the rain, but like anything, it ends up disgusting. Not only is the bait that I have spent the last few days, but when it came time to take off, my partner was gone, the latter having taken leave camp to fulfill his conjugal duties. The problem with the fact that my partner is not with me at the time of departure is that camping is all that she and I have invented. We are first installed, the first ready to eat, the first having gathered all together, the first ready to go. Efficiency. It is us.
As happens on occasion of mind quick as a seagull in front of a Big Mac, I had the bright idea to end my weekend camping with the only ex who has become my friend. But the friendship between former, it has certain limitations. An ex, it remains an ex. And if camping with her ex you appear like a great idea, I strongly suggest you give yourself a few slaps back of the head time to make the little intelligence you have. This guy is nice. To carry his bag during a meeting Shopping, fine. But to operate when it's time to put a tent while it was almost dark on a Friday evening and need to prepare dinner, it's not necessarily the ideal. But it is nice. A glass of wine in town, fine. But one Sunday morning when it's time for baling small and that it persists for half an hour to fold a square canvas tent that is not square, it gets on my nerves. The best time spent with him was in the car to return, then he spent two hours talking to me about his job and I nodded, pushing some "Ahem" on occasion. I am in bad faith, I know. I like it anyway.
As happens on occasion of mind quick as a seagull in front of a Big Mac, I had the bright idea to end my weekend camping with the only ex who has become my friend. But the friendship between former, it has certain limitations. An ex, it remains an ex. And if camping with her ex you appear like a great idea, I strongly suggest you give yourself a few slaps back of the head time to make the little intelligence you have. This guy is nice. To carry his bag during a meeting Shopping, fine. But to operate when it's time to put a tent while it was almost dark on a Friday evening and need to prepare dinner, it's not necessarily the ideal. But it is nice. A glass of wine in town, fine. But one Sunday morning when it's time for baling small and that it persists for half an hour to fold a square canvas tent that is not square, it gets on my nerves. The best time spent with him was in the car to return, then he spent two hours talking to me about his job and I nodded, pushing some "Ahem" on occasion. I am in bad faith, I know. I like it anyway.
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