So, Edgar comes home from work last night and tells me that a bunch of guys at work are thinking of bugging out. "Bugging out?" What the hell is that supposed to mean? I mean, come on. This is northern Ontario, when has bird flu, or swine flu, or even anthrax ever touched us way up here? I'm pretty sure that all germs freeze to death as soon as they cross the big lake. We never get affected by anything up here.
Doesn't matter, he tells me. He didn't go to work this morning, no matter how much I argued with him. He just keeps insisting that this time, it's different. He's in the garage right now, packing up all our camping gear. Where did my rational, reasonable husband go and who is this man?
