Glamping
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I don't want to go camping. I definitely don't want to go glamping.
Glamping could be one of the most unforgivably cringeworthy words I know.
It sounds like a vise. A tool that clamps. A glamorous clamp. Speculum to the stars. I've done it again. I've gone too far. And I've only just begun.
Because now they want me to verb it. Sure as there are stars above, tomorrow we will all glamp together under solid cedar roofs.
Glamourous camping. Fine linens. (We'll see about that.) Flinens, maybe. Towels. A country mart store with organic food, aromatherapy and local artisan jewelry.
No one hates camping more than I do. I have not had a great time of it. In college, the guy I went with had us sleep under the stars in the middle of an ant hill.
I like room service, a big bathtub and a nice turn down service. I like someone else to lug my bags and...