"And Isaac Newton Was Probably Gay"

So since I've started this trip I've been thinking that I should sleep outside at least once. Partly it's just the presence of the sleeping bag, taunting me with its outdoorsiness. Partly it's because it's the sort of thing I never do, and haven't done since I was maybe 10 years old, and then only because somebody made me. The closest I've come in the intervening years was a Christmas-time trip to Death Valley in college where we slept in the car. Which was kind of spooky, but not the same.

Last night I finally bit the bullet. I was incredibly fortunate in that there was no rain. Which makes it the only day in Georgia so far without rain. As much as I admire the musical stylings of Brooks Benton I have no desire to re-live them outdoors without a tent.

On the minus side, I am now one giant mosquito bite. I killed a couple of them (when I went to brush my teeth there was a giant smear of mosquito blood on my leg), but that didn't go any way towards evening the score. Also, the ground is hard. And I got woken up by a racoon touching my (outside the sleeping bag) foot, which is a jumpy way to wake up.

But all in all, it was well worth it. I read until it got dark, brushed my teeth and sat there smoking in the dark. After a bit, I started talking to my campsite neighbor. He was a self-described blue collar guy and secular progressive. He was going back to college at age 40. His daughter was starting at his college in the fall. He was drinking beer and bourbon, both of which he offered me. He was a surveyor, and wanted to make a film about surveying in the past. He was really into Tudor England.

If I had woken up at 5 he would have made me coffee, but at 5 I was still asleep. I woke up at 8 and looked up at the tree over my head. Then I started scratching again.