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The Tent Story

I love me some analytical types. They drive me crazy and I adore them, both.
Some of my best friends are analytical. And my previous very long term boyfriend.

You might be asking yourself, what is an analytical? There's a clue in the first four letters of the word. (Heh) These people are the information gatherers of the world. For them, there is no such thing as too much information. In fact, daring to suggest that all information on a particular subject may have been attained is a veritable act of betrayal akin to stabbing them in the heart.

The question they ask is "What". As in "What more can you tell me?" "What other information do you have?" "What are the specs on this product?" The information glass is NEVER, EVER full for them.

The only problem (well maybe not the only one) with being wired like that is making a decision is like the tenth circle of hell (I can only imagine.); it's hard to commit to most everything - marriage, a meal, a car, a paint color, a tent.

So the BF and I, we like the camping, and have decided to buy a tent.
We have a few requirements which I include here for your reading pleasure:

1.) He must be able to stand up in it. He's not that much taller than me, but a guy wants what he wants. No harm, no foul.
2.) It needs those pouches under the windows for glasses. This is my one request.
3.) It needs to sleep five. They say subtract one from the number it says it sleeps for comfort. There's three of us plus a friend for Shawnn. So a tent that says it sleeps five is great for four people. Math. It's complicated. (Why can't they just say it sleeps four comfortably?!)
4.) Needs to be compact so the cooler can go in the trunk instead of the back seat, making room for friend.
5.) We have a budget of $100.

Shawnn is spending the summer in NY with friends (very good friends), so we stop at our local outdoorsy place in Petaluma on our way to SFO.
Go upstairs, to what I like to think of as the camping dioramas, and there... a navy blue Eureka dome tent, sleeps six, on sale for $99. BF can stand up it in, there are pouchy things under the windows. It is compact and lovely and perfect when folded in its tiny pouch. (But you and I both know it will never go back in the pouch that way ever again and will be bungee corded together and thrown in the trunk.)

Yay, can you believe it!? The first store we go to! It's perfect, right? Meets all the criteria, right? Let's get it! Wait, wait!...why are we leaving!?...

Because. We. Must. Gather. More. Information.

We take Shawnn to the airport, then hit several places in San Francisco. Nothing strikes his fancy. This is where I start asking, "Why don't we just get the Eureka in Petaluma? It was perfect. Why do we have to go to all these other places?!" (My question, being a supporting style, is why. This is the question, according to the BF, that there is no answer to and it drives him batty.)
We might even have gone to the big camping place on the way to Sacramento. I can't remember anymore. After the second place in SF, I lost interest because of being in an information overload induced coma and all.

We go to at least two other places in San Rafael. Mind you, this is pre-Internet, BG (before Goggle). We'd still be looking right now if those options had been available. It speaks to the superior gathering ability of the analytical type - he knew where all these places were - from a phone book!

Finally, in Novato, a good six hours later on the way back home, he spies something he likes.

Guess what? IDON'TCAREANYMORE! Get whatever you want.

At this point I hate camping. I hate tents. I hate shopping. I'm pretty sure I hate him a little bit.

He buys the tent. The tent with aluminum poles that have to be put together and take up a lot of room, instead of the bungee type poles that don't - like the Eureka tent.
The tent that does NOT have pouches under the windows, even though pictures on the box show them. The tent that never zips up correctly and always puckers, no matter what you do. The tent that takes up so much freaking room with its duffel bag carrying case that there is no room for Shawnn's friends to come camping with us. (This may have been BF's cunning plan all along.)

The tent he got when we broke up.

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