The Chipmunk

We’ve been enjoying some quality family time in the woods, doing some camping. I am the rare human that enjoys the self-punishment involved with sleeping on the ground. I woke up this morning and watched the coffee gently bubble in the percolator. Then I did my morning stretches next to the campfire while listening to the birds. I do clumsy stretches every morning to remind myself that I’m not as young as I used to be and camping is no exception. I conclude my daily stretches with a brief trip to my toes. It’s a fairly accurate gauge of how I should spend the day. If I bend over to touch my toes and can’t get past my knees, I need to be more active. If I can get to the ground, I’m doing great. After a night in the tent, I was satisfied getting as far as my ankles. While hanging out in this inverted fashion, I opened my eyes to see a massive, raging chipmunk charging right at me from behind. In my experience, chipmunks are timid creatures. I was sure he would veer off. That crazy, maniacal rodent ran right between my legs. I screamed. He hissed. The family at the next site all looked over to see what was the matter. I told them it was a mean chipmunk and they should be on their guard. They laughed. I don’t know what was so funny about a grown man being attacked by a vicious chipmunk.


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