Through the Looking Glass

These are my old man's glasses. (That was a hint that I got to see my dad again. Just wanted to make sure you got it.)

He's doing well in his words. In my own, well he's living off the land. I'm not quite sure how I feel about him camping in a tent in our backyard for the next week and a half. I mean yes he's in a safe place, but all modern conveniences are as foreign to him as texting.

He is living without a toliet, without a shower, and without a bed. He sleeps on an air matress in a tent that miraculously made it through the roaring fire that destroyed our house. He says he's doing fine and he actually says he's having fun. I mean I'm all for camping and I love the outdoors, but even I have my limit.

He's borrowing electricity from our neighbors who were nice enough to lend it and he has running water from them also. In retrospect he's fairing well, I just wish there was more I could do to make him comfortable.

But alas, I am stuck at work praying that the storms that have run rampant through our state are finally past until after he has finished his little adventrue. I swear he will never grow up. I wouldn't be surprised to go over there one day and find him living in a tree house.

Quote:
"Never let the fear of striking out, keep you from playing the game."