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Before Everything Turns to Slag

Time today is even shorter. I have a brief moment in our brother campout while Trevor and Dave are still getting their sleeping gear cleaned up, and I have a few quiet moments to reflect before the sun rises and turns everything to slag. A guy in the next site is loudly telling everyone about something incestuous, oblivious that all these campsites are packed in like sardines. Some things people should keep to themselves.

This is the first time the four of us have taken a trip together, and it has been as crazy as you might expect. Overnight car camping trips within close proximity to a Maverik aren’t really camping. They are adventures. Last night we returned to the campsite after midnight to find all of our camp chairs stolen. The tent looked strange, but we soon discovered someone put the chairs and water jug inside. Apparently, while we were out, the tent wanted to go to the ranch. It was cloudy last night, but it cleared up enough to give everyone a brief glimpse of Saturn, Jupiter, and the moon. The camp host just came by to tell us she’s the one who weighed our tent down with all our stuff. We are getting packed up now, so I’ll sign off.

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