Upon returning home, I have developed a new respect for double-ply toilet paper

I just returned from my annual week-long foray into the woods (read: Algonquin Park) with a group of teenagers. 

As per usual, it was chocked full of dirty words and talk of bodily functions. I am not going to lie, the talk of bodily functions was primarily me talking to myself aloud about the indigestion I was experiencing. Every so often, I would corner one of the teenagers and over share, telling them how many trips to the outhouse I had made that hour alone. 

On one of my many trips to the outhouse, one poor camper (whom I had briefly left unattended at the site in order to take care of "business") was terrorized by a moose who came charging through our site. I heard the feral animal galloping past my kybo of choice and, had I not already been pooping, probably would have soiled myself. 

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