The forecast said 60% chance of rain today; 70% chance of rain yesterday. We debated and debated, and then we debated some more. And then we decided to go camping anyway.
By yesterday morning, the weatherman said there was a 90% chance of rain-- and thunderstorms.
Don't worry, guys-- I said-- they've been saying all week that there'd be thunderstorms, and it's been nice every single day! I'm sure we'll be fine.
Why is it that weathermen are only right when you need them not to be?
And yet, it was awesome. The rain let up enough for us to go on two hikes (and we even almost made it back from the second hike before it started its torrential downpour-- almost, but not quite); and it stopped raining enough for us to get a fire started for cooking all our meals. Last night it rained the hardest. But we were able to take shelter in our large tent and play some Dutch Blitz and Bananagrams. Pretty hard to feel sad about that!
I haven't been that wet or cold in a while. Not that wet, not that cold-- and not that happy in a while. I'm even glad the weatherman was right.
I don't think I would've changed a thing.
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