I’m laying in bed holding a thermos of warm lemon mint tea, with a sleeping dog curled up at my hip. Outside the sound of rain echoes off the leaves of the trees, and a cool wind blows at my shoulder. It’s only 9:30 and I’m ready for bed. I’ve had a sore throat for three full days now, and it shows no sign of leaving. I have no idea where this came from, but Jen assures me I do, in fact, have allergies and should have been taking medication for that, especially as I was outside for all three days this past weekend and the desert-like conditions probably stirred up some pollen that doesn’t agree with me.

Downstairs, stacked on the front porch, sits about half of our camping gear, packed and ready for a trip we can’t take this weekend. The forecast until next Monday calls for at least 50% chance of rain each day. I’ve camped in the rain before, and if there’s one thing that’s worse than a wet sleeping bag and cold food, it’s two kids complaining about their wet sleeping bags and the cold food. So I’m out a nominal amount for two reservations (an attempt was made to get Zachary’s uncle to join us) and I have to find an alternative solution to get the kids out of the house on Saturday. On the bright side, we’re at the point when I can make reservations at Assateague for next year, so I’ve got my finger on the trigger next Tuesday to make that happen.