Hey ho the merrio, a-camping we will go!

We are going camping this weekend. My hubby is beside himself with excitement. He has already moved the caravan from it's usual resting place to just beside our pool and is popping up the lid so that I can start packing. Note: I can start packing.
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Caravaning is LOADS of fun for men. What do they have to do? Hitch the caravan, drive it to said destination, unhook the caravan, level the caravan, plug in the electricity, and wa-la. A-caravaning-we-went.
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For women it's quite a different story. The packing for a weekend begins with an hour or so spent putting together the "packing list". I've become quite clever now. I have the list on my p.c. and when a caravaning weekend is looming, I hit print and Bob's your uncle. Then the fun begins. Hundreds Thousands of trips back and forth from the house to the caravan, weilding all manner of items that must go with. I usually start with the clothes and underwear. Then it used to be the toiletries. I've become quite clever now (as I mentioned before)... I have one set of toiletries that stay in the house, and another complete set that stays in the caravan, so now I don't even have to worry about toiletries anymore. 'n Boer maak 'n plan. Then it's the food. Now this is where it gets tricky. Oh the food. I used to go grocery shopping, unpack all the groceries into the caravan item by item, in groups of similarity, i.e. coffee, tea, sugar and long-life milk together; condiments together, etc. You get the picture. Until we arrived at our destination once after a particularly bumpy trip and found everything piled on top of eachother in one heap in the bottom corner of the grocery cupboard. We ate soggy buns for the remainder of the weekend. Not fun. So now, I do the grocery shopping, and stash the packets as is into the cupboard, taking care to seal each packet at the top... and then unpack the packets item by item, in groups of similarity, warra warra fish paste, when we get there.

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Of course, once the men have finished setting up camp (all of two minutes later!), they put up their feet and say "What's for supper?"

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Oh, the joys of camping. No wonder men love it.