I kept telling my husband that I didn’t enjoy camping.
When we were dating, he used to always ask me to go camping with him when he went with his family or friends.
I always hated camping. My parents would drag us to the campground several times during the summer. You slept on the ground in a sleeping bag. It was always chilly and damp, and when it rained, it was ten times worse. Not even the tent could keep you from getting cold and wet. When I got old enough to stay home alone, mom and dad left me stay home. I hadn’t been camping since that day and did not need to go camping. I had a bathtub, excellent HVAC, and walls to keep out the damp and cold. I enjoyed camping if it was in a hotel room with a panoramic view of the area. Then, last year, my husband told me he was insisting I go camping with him and the kids. I told him no, but he handed me a blindfold. When he removed the blindfold, I was standing in from of a portable tiny home. He told me it wasn’t very big, but he could pull it behind the truck. If it rained, the portable tiny home would work as a camper for all of us. If it was nice outside, he’d let the boys sleep in the tent, but he and I would use the portable tiny home where we could take showers.and sleep in an actual bed. I realized what a hypocrite he was about camping when he said he was staying in the portable tiny home with me.