I remember when we were little and dad always took us camping. Mom would say something about needing to stay home so she could get some work done, and dad would smile. I never believe she really worked while we were gone, but she enjoyed the alone time. We had to come home early one weekend, and mom was in the garden tub relaxing. She had a glass of wine on the side of the tub and a book in her hand. We could feel the heat flowing around us when we walked in the door. She yelled out to see who was home, and dad walked in on her. I heard her laugh when he said we should join her, and maybe we could all get warm and she kicked him out of the bathroom. It hadn’t gotten so cold at the campground that we were all sleeping on a mattress together. Poor dad got shoved onto the cold ground and spent most of the night shivering. When we woke up in the morning, the firepit was already lit and we huddled there for some warmth, while dad was still asleep in the car. I suddenly realized why mom didn’t go camping with us. It was cold in the mountains and there was no comfort. I liked mom’s take on camping better. Now that I am older, I stay home where there is heating and air conditioning. I have a garden tub and a pool in the backyard, but I am never far away from my HVAC system, and I never smell of smoke.