Wouldn't you know it: we both got sick the day after we got home from our camping trip. The Man was about twelve hours ahead of me, and he went down fast. I knew I'd get it too, so I got as many things done in my short window as possible. When it hit me, I was ready.
The Man, his parents, his brother, and I went camping for five days at River Bend County Park in Foster, Oregon, this week. We left on Sunday and returned on Thursday. We stayed in a cabin right on the South Santiam River. While we didn't actually do anything on or in the river, it was super peaceful and picturesque to have the river right there.
Despite the incredibly dry summer this year, the powers that be started allowing campfires in the fire pits only a couple weeks before we left. Camping without a campfire is just... not right.
After one of the longest, warmest, driest years we can remember for Oregon--and now quite used to fans running throughout the house at full speed--the late August nights were finally cool enough that we could turn the fans off. The Man and I went to bed around midnight, as usual. I awoke around 4:00am with a terrible sense that something was not right. Smoke. I smell smoke. No. Not smoke. Gas. Gas?! Oh $#@! My eyes snapped open, and I was on my feet in a second.