Sweet dreams?

I forgot to mention that as an old lady (at least in this weekend's company), I can be set in my ways. My fellow would-be campers knew ahead of time that I was an air mattress kind of camper … I can handle pit toilets and going without showers, but I cannot sleep on the ground!!

So, Saturday night after the garlic fest, we set up camp (just my tent, really), and I started huffing and puffing (to blow up my mattress). I took a break about half-way through but persevered despite the ridicule I endured from the younglings.
After what seemed like ages, I had done it—blown up the mattress and looked forward to a comfortable night's sleep in the tranquil fields of Four Springs Farm, lulled by the songs of crickets and other little beasties.

Then the valve broke off. Gone. Something that not even duct tape could fix! I was beyond consolation; the prospect of 2 nights on the ground was more than I could bear. I recalled camping trips to the White Mountains when I was a child, when I would try to sleep and just lay awake all night from discomfort. After a few trips like this, my parents broke down and purchased cheap blow-up rafts for my brother and me. But because those rafts weren't made for 8 hours of over-the-ground use, they typically went flat (slow leak) on the first night, sometime during the wee hours. And I would cry and wish for my bed.

Well, the upshot is that I survived. Thankfully, a matted-down hay field is lots more comfy (and I use that term loosely) than the hard-packed tent pads of the national forest parks.