Don’t you just love the smell of freshly whacked weeds?
Backstory: My dad would not let me get a puppy when I desperately wanted one in fourth grade. (Not that I’m still bitter or anything.) He is, however, very entertained by bugs, even when they’re not living in the out of doors where they’re technically supposed to be. Instead, he and his former coworker Casey would set up ant circuses at the office, enticing these and other little critters out of the walls with sticky treats and salty snacks. Having recently changed offices, and with Casey long gone, Dad was in need of some new company. Hence the following e-mail:
The I News Network journalism camp, or “institute” rather (as I was so emphatically reminded when I told one of the students she didn’t need to go out and buy cotton balls; she should suck it up because she’s at “camp”), has been great, but I’m not sure what I’m more excited about: a bed that isn’t made of plastic, food not served on a tray or a towel that’s full and fluffy and covers more than my unmentionables.
I don’t know why I thought leaving a pair of wet athletic shoes in a fully-sealed car on a hot, summer day might be a good idea.
So the I News Network Journalism Camp isn’t exactly roughing it. We’re using computers (some might be surfing the web for deals on new computers), soaking up info like sponges and eating three squares a day.
Then again, Denver University’s sleeping arrangements are what you might call sparse. Trying to fall asleep at night with a plastic bed, a pair of sheets that are eight thread count max and a waterproof, drool-proof, flame retardant, nylon pillow has been a bit of a challenge. And the unscreened window handily level with my headboard makes it more than likely that over the course of the week something will plummet to the ground four stories below; however, if anything does, I’ll definitely have the investigative tools to figure out why the hell it happened.