For people who know me well, they know this, I hate getting dirty. I hate working outside. I hate sweating. Basically, I hate any kind of hard labor...or labor at all. My parents knew this and thinking they were wise and could reform my evil ways, they sent me to summer camp. Not any summer camp. Farm camp. On a farm. Where you had to work...HARD.
This was possibly one of the hardest weeks of my existence. The first warning sign should have come when one of the primary items that I would have to bring was work boots followed by a straw hat. Yes, you read that right. A straw hat.
This "camp" or as I like to call it "seasonal free labor" consisted of feeding chickens, grinding corn BY HAND, milking goats, cutting the lawn with a manual lawn mower, picking cotton, and feeding the ravenous sled dogs that just happened to live there. The power was only on from 9am-8pm. We had to get up when it was still dark. You could only take a shower every other day and "fun" was playing with old-fashioned toys that couldn't fight back.
This concept was probably genius. It was a working farm that sold its produce and we were free labor. Not only that, but the people running the joint were charging my parents to have me work. Not the reverse! Needless to say, this attempt of my parents to get me to enjoy working in the wide world and understanding the joys of hard labor failed. I just resent the week that I had to use an out house, milk a goat, grind corn by hand, and feed the ravenous sled dogs.
This wasn't the only time they sought to improve my life skills. They also sent me to "Super Camp". Let me tell you, that was anything but "super". It revolved around learning. I'll leave you with that for now.
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