[Image]Source: A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz A-friggin-MEN! I hate nature. Not looking at it so much as being in it. I LOVE looking at a pretty blue sky as Chris and I walk from our office building to Starbucks. I like looking at Mt. Rainier as I drive to Ikea. I love it from a path in the city. Around an urban lake. I love the sound of the surf. I love it from a secluded beach in the middle of no where. So, I guess more precisely, I hate being stuck in non-coastal nature.
The reason is simple. I don't like being dirty. And when you're in nature, you're dirty. I don't dislike dirt altogether. Gardening is fine. But I can come inside and have hot water and soap immediately. Florida's coast, where I grew up, doesn't have much in the way of actual dirt, just sand. Sand can get in uncomfortable places, but if you wipe it off, you're essentially clean. No organic residue left. There's seaweed, but you can always eat that if you get lost.
I can do it. I can appreciate it. It's lovely. There's nature I'd put up with just to see the sight, like the Grand Canyon or the Outback. Hell, I put up with desert all through Israel, and I'm not even sure I complained all that much (except about the rocks in my Birkenstocks). But if I had to choose my nature, I like my deck in the middle of Seattle (or any of several back yards I'm lucky enough to have invitations to on a regular basis). Until the next time I'm stupid enough to say "Let's go camping." That was only two weeks ago. Today, I still remember why I hate nature.
"I wished I could draw my inspiration from mother nature’s well, but to tell you the truth, the bitch leaves me dry"
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