This weekend Veri-husband and I went camping. The idea of camping always tickles me: VH and I have gone to great lengths and expense to live in a roomy place with a lot of land. We’ve invested in a posturepedic bed for restful nights, and we’ve bought fancy pans and appliances for our kitchen so our food can taste yummy..

But a few times a year we not only give all that up — we pay to give it up, pay to sleep on the ground under a flimsy piece of fabric, eat cooler food speckled with dirt and ash, in a patch of land as big as our bedroom and living room.

But as I ate mushy food scrunched into a folding chair, I found myself struggling to stay awake. Throughout the weekend I was in a hazy fog of reading by the fire, taking the dogs for a stroll, and just enjoying being unplugged, unstressed, and unbathed.

Then it makes sense. I’d pay a lot more for such gentle calm.