I have my now antiquated CD/MP3 player loaded with an audio book: The Kite Runner. In my backpack are "fuel foods" for warmth such as granola bars, GORP, and some ham and cheese sandwiches. I've got two thermoses soon to be filled with piping hot milky and sweet coffee and the coffee should stay warm until morning. My spare handwarmer will soon be lit and tucked in my pant's pocket. I am all ready to join Ferret.
The last piece of this puzzle allowing me to camp is my father arriving with my medications. We talked briefly on the phone and I told him to bring me some extra Benadryl so I could sleep. I also told him I would be camping tonight.
"Camping?" he exclaimed. "It is going to get down to eighteen degrees!"
Dad knows of Ferret and the shopping center gang. Often asking about them and what I have written in my journal lately. I promised him it was a sober sojourn.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked before he hung up.
"It's exciting," I replied. "You know I love camping and never go anymore. The more interesting the weather; the more interesting the camping."
"I'll be over soon," he said and hung up his cell phone.