…sometimes it isn’t.

Out of desire to keep with this blog’s goal of positivity, I haven’t mentioned that I’ve been gut shatteringly sick since my Christmas / New Year’s vacation started. I’ve been trying to post happy little nothings and plow through it. But fuck it.

This blows. This is the sickest I think I’ve ever been. I’m surrounded by delicious food I can’t eat, I have time to watch all those movies I’ve had in my various queues, but I can barely stay focused long enough to start them, and since I’m the only one who cleans in this house, things have fallen apart and everybody’s really pissed off at me for being sick. I’m lonely, everything hurts, and I wish I could stop shitting. This vacation sucks.


…the park we’re camping at has an actual playground.

To be clear, I fucking hate camping. Some of the dumbest shit imaginable. You pay a ton of money for a house with plumbing and electricity and then instead of drinking in front of a movie you choke on smoke and fester with swamp ass for a weekend. White people have the worst ideas.

But you know what would make this trip worse? Not having a playground for the kids. Because then instead of distracting them with a swing set I’d be spending the whole day trying to explain to them why we’re camping even though I also want to play video games. Lucky thing this park has the goods.

Not like the last park we went to. The sign said it had a playground but it turned out to be a “natural” playground. You know what that shit was?

It was a log. A fucking log, guys. I wish I was fucking joking.

Not even two of them. Just one janky ass log. Lying on the ground. With two sad chains draping off into the dirt, possibly relics from that wonderful day somebody dragged the log into place and then gave up.

That playground is to an actual playground what camping is to an actual weekend.