For those of you who think that I might exaggerate a bit when describing Charlie as a passive-aggressive sleeper, I would offer the attached picture as proof that this in fact an actively-aggressive sleeper. This was taken when camping in the mountains above Moab, Utah, where, when the sun goes down, the temperature goes with it.
The sleeping bag in question is a Big Agnes mummy bag, built for one average sized camper. One. Averaged sized camper. Although I weigh in a bit more in the “fun sized” category, Ms Agnes mentions nowhere on her label about a rambunctious black dog being included in the package. But Charlie doesn’t believe in labels, or boundaries either, for that matter. No matter how tightly I zip up against the impending invasion, there is no stopping her; first a probing snuffling wet nose, then the rest of her inexorably follows like a flood of hairy black lava filling all the available nooks and crannies.
And making some new ones.
It wouldn’t be so bad if she would continue on down to the foot of the bag, as it’s a “modified mummy”, meaning it has a slightly larger footbox. But noooo, she has to stop right where we’re both the widest, right across the chest. A sleeping bsg retains its warmth by trapping warm air between the synthetic fibers, but Charlie’s habit of stopping halfway down pulls the bag tight and the air can’t do its job. By morning, the result is a frost bitten torso and sweaty feet, which is exactly as pleasant as it sounds.
The when the morning fog starts to shift and move and my overactive kidneys refuse to give me a break, I have to worm my way up and out as to not disturb her slumbering Highness. And do you think that she assists in breaking camp? Not on your life; she remains ensconced in her cocoon until I have to physically squeeze her from it like a lump of uncooperative toothpaste. Then she gives ME the dirty looks, like she is sooo mistreated.
Why am I telling you this? To gain sympathy and support, of course. To prove what a martyr I am, what tortures I endure nightly at the paws of Charles, Queen of the Casa. Although I’m thinking it’s a lost cause, that she’s already used her propaganda machine to hoodwink and deceive you.
I never even had a chance(sob)
