It will come as no shock to you to learn that when we hear the word “camping,” my husband and I envision two vastly different experiences.
I submit the following photos as evidence.
Exhibit A: My minimalist vision of camping (which I would argue is still more luxurious than my childhood version of camping–in an old musty army tent that smelled like vomit on a hot day).
Exhibit B: My husband’s version of camping. (Note: the square footage in these vehicles is more than my Freshman Dorm room. True Story.)
I’m not saying that one of us is right and one of us is wrong. Everybody is entitled to their own opinions. I’m just saying that when I suggest a “compromise,” I don’t consider getting the RV and towing the Honda Element behind it to be a true reflection of “meeting somewhere in the middle.” But then again, who am I to define the word “compromise?” Do I look like Wikipedia to you? Again … everybody is entitled to their own opinions, I suppose.
That doesn’t stop me from asking my husband where he plans to install the water slide in this beast.