We went camping for Memorial Day. It was really chilly out, to the point that I was wearing two giant sweatshirts. TWO. I could barely lift my arms due to all the sweatshirtedness. And Jason, whose inner organs sit comfortably in a furnace fueled by copious amounts of testosterone, was wearing a thin t-shirt and denying my reasonable, frequent requests to make the campfire BIGGER. People: I am not a wussy. It was COLD. Which I guess I should’ve expected, seeing as it was almost, you know, June.