Cutting to the chase
There are symbols posted at library entrances and on signs at parks around here: No cigarettes. No guns. Neither applies to my situation.
I have a problem where I keep thinking I want to go camping but then realize it’s an Instagram curse, that I’m being duped by accounts that make camping look easy and glorious, not sweaty and popular with bugs. I love outdoors and being cozy around a fire but I don’t want to do any of the things that would bring those two things together besides show up somewhere with a chair, a blanket, and my dog.
I was sitting on the porch last Sunday morning and took a sip of coffee and there was a dead bee in it, is what I’m saying.