I am...

... Roger Hammer's daughter

(Yes, I am fly fishing and loving it.)

Here's a question...

What rational person locks themselves in a tiny room with hundreds of bugs, a smell that is more of a physical presence than an odor and then exposes their most precious nether regions to a black pit of endless despair?

I do.

But only when forced to do so by the Sanitary Maintenance Enforcers of Local Latrines Yonder (S.M.E.L.L.Y.) who run the "facilities" at the campsite where we stayed. (not a real organization)

So honestly, when I initially saw/smelled (I'm not sure which came first) the bathroom at this campground I actually looked around for a private place where I could dig my own hole. Seriously. And you know... It didn't even need to be that private to qualify. But the ground was hard and I didn't have a shovel yadda yadda yadda.

So I conducted an inspection which yielded me more trepidation than if I had gone in blindfolded and decided that I could wait awhile. Well, awhile turned out to be not as long as I hoped so I girded up my loins and pranced in dodging spiders and flys while preparing for the inevitable...

...

...Blast! I had never had a problem with stage fright until this very moment, the one time when I needed to get in and get out in the shortest time possible. I whined to myself. "C'mon, we need to get outta here!" I like to speak to myself as if I were two people when in frightening situations. A fly landed on my knee. Slap! "Any day now..."

Let's not go into details but suffice to say, I barely escaped with my life and lived to use the potty several more times before we left. And you know, each time got a little easier.

Ok, no it didn't. It actually got worse as the night came on but whatever. I need to move on from this and enjoy the running water that I have at home which I am very very grateful for.

Amen.