Our friends from L.A. were visiting for the week.
We have a lovely cottage that we use as a guest house. It has great high ceilings with cherry beams and mica lights. It sleeps six, has a foosball tables, an eating area (that I stock with lobster shaped cookies, blueberry wines, fancy creams and VIA coffee) and an entertainment system. All windows face the lake.
However, when one spends their days in a concrete jungle, they still consider this "camping."
Imagine their kids' disappointment when they showed up to "camp" and see where they are staying.
Maybe I should have made cookies in the shape of wet, collapsed tents, black flies and hemmorrhoids.
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