In the "stop dithering and get it done" department, we have this:
and reservations here:
The tent is different from the one I showed you before. I decided it was worthwhile to get a tent that I can stand up in. It makes getting dressed so much less annoying. It's actually two "rooms", but the room divider comes down. I'm a little nervous about being able to be warm in a big tent like that, all by myself. The obvious strategy is not to be by myself, but...alas... alone it is. (And really, that is as it should be. I just like to make ribald suggestions. Heaven knows why.) Hence, the mummy sleeping bag. I did some shopping around and poking around in camping discussion groups and opted for a child's bag. My size pays off here, since I get a good bag for not much money. I considered -I really considered- the kid's bag that had glow in the dark constellations on the lining. But I decided that would get old sort of fast.
And the campsite is Starved Rock State Park, which is sort of a cliche if you live around here. I considered Kettle Moraine in Wisconsin, which isn't far. But this is a sneak-away-before-anyone-notices overnight trip. Starved Rock is closer, so it won. And it's gorgeous, it really is.
And the thing that made me decide I really should do this? Thallia. Remember her? The lovely green bike? We're going camping. There's a little voice in my head, that really belongs to snarky Dave in "let's find fault with Andrea" mode, saying that a good person, a worthy cyclist, would ride to Starved Rock. He's done it lots of times. Well, you know what? He didn't do it after working an 8-hour day, with tragically, relentlessly-needy, mostly mentally ill people. I'm trying to shut that voice up -in so many ways, I'm trying. I'm going to ride my bike around Starved Rock, sleep in my new tent, see the waterfalls (not on the bike), drink coffee at the Lodge, and then go to work late the next day. And I'm going to remember the smile that came spontaneously to me as I thought of those activities and not dwell on my certainty that, even in recreation, I don't live up to Dave's standards.
Really. I'm trying to let that go. As I said, I hate days off. Too much time to brood.