Like, in the bag it comes in has wheels because it's so heavy, kind of big.
We named it the Taj-Mahal and it has served us well.
The kids are older now, the Island Girl has put a complete stop to any camping on her part and the boys have each moved out and into their own one-man tents.
So a few weeks ago the Island King and I were looking at the Taj-Mahal and talking about downsizing a little.
We don't need a giant tent anymore but we both agreed that we're too old for those little bitty tents so we wanted something we could stand up in.
Basically, half of the Taj-Mahal.
I came home from the store a few days later and he tells me to come and look at the new tent he bought.
“You bought a new tent? Without even showing it to me?”
“You're gonna love it!” he tells me.
“It's a Tee Pee and there is plenty of room to stand up.”
The new tent arrived and we took it to Tower Camp to try it out.
Well, it certainly is smaller but when I said I wanted to downsize this is NOT what I meant.
He keeps calling it a tee pee but in reality it's a gnome tent shaped like a tee pee.
He set up our army cots and that left approximately 3 inches to stand up in.
I was not liking the new tent at all but thinking that maybe I'd get used to it.
Then – it happened...
The door of the tent is only 3 feet high and as I was coming out my head brushed the opening of the door and the zipper caught my hair.
I tried to untangle myself but that only made things worse.
I called the Island King over and he tried to pull my hair out of the zipper. The opening is only 3 feet tall so I'm kind of bent over/hanging there and am getting madder by the minute.
And then I heard him open his knife.
“WAIT!! What are you doing? This is the hair directly on top of my head – you can't cut it!”
Which is when my sweet husband said “You've got plenty of hair, no one will notice” and sliced my hair with the knife.
I was free and madder than a wet hen. Out of the tent I fell, jumped up and proceeded to throw a fit like I haven't thrown in years.
It. Was. Ugly.
The tirade ended with me declaring that I will NEVER sleep in that stupid little gnome tent again.
The boys were laughing hysterically and the Island King just shook his head.
I heard him talking to his new tent later, telling it not to listen to me and that it is a real tee pee and he'll use it when he goes hunting and I'm not there.
I've always called myself a “glamper” - which means I love to camp but I don't like to rough it so I don't think downsizing was such a good idea after all.