To be honest, I didn't want to go fishing. That is a rarity for me; since there are few things I enjoy quite so much as being out in the woods on the bank of a stream or lake with a fly rod in my hand. However, I'd just worked 10 days straight, and they were 12-hour days. I was exhausted.

The fishing trip was my wife's idea. That being the case, I knew that I would go even if I didn't want to. She had some notion of what I was feeling, though, because she said that she would pack so I wouldn't need to do anything but drive and help set up camp.

I suppose that I should have been suspicious when after only an hour or so, she said that we were ready to go. At that time, our camping and fishing gear was very disorganized, and no food was pre-packed, so everything had to be put in boxes and taken to the car. With both of us working at it, it was usually a two and a half hour job. Still, I didn't question it.

We got our dogs, locked up, and got into the car. I then drove to the gas station, filled up, and pulled out on the highway. At that point, I asked where she wanted to go fishing. That was the first bad thing that happened, as she told me she didn't know and wanted me to decide.

I was tired! My job entailed making decisions constantly, every day. I really didn't want or need to make another. I picked a place, though. It was one that was in the middle of nowhere, and I figured that at least I'd be able to relax since there wouldn't be anyone else around.

It took an hour and a half to get there because of road construction, which didn't do a bit of good for my nerves. We started setting up camp. That was when things took a turn for the worst. In her hurry to pack, my wife had forgotten the tent poles, to begin with. It was already beginning to sprinkle, so a tent was a must if we didn't want to try to sleep in a cramped position in the car.

I figured out a jury-rigged way to set up the tent, and while wifey made the bed, I went to set up the fire pit and to get wood. More problems with that, though; I dropped a 20 pound rock on my foot, bruising it, then when I got the wood, I had to run like crazy because of an angry nest of yellow-jackets I didn't know was there. By then, it was also raining a lot harder, and I was drenched by the time I got back with some wood, which was also wet.

Back in camp, I got more bad news. The wife had forgotten to bring any meat, seasoning, salt, pepper, or sharp knives. She'd also forgotten the frying pans and

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