Over the long weekend, we cabined.
Everyone ought to cabin every now and again. To cabin is to gaze up at a charcoal black canvas of sky peppered with tiny pinpricks of light, to be utterly surrounded by mossy trees, to be awakened in the middle of the night by a large unknown animal skittering across the front porch and then to lie there for an hour hoping the animal wasn't really a demented serial killer and this wasn't going to end up like one of those folk horror tales where the guy with the hook for a hand slowly scratches through the top of the car and then the UNWITTING MORONS IN THE CAR DIE.
Yeah. Just like that, except with a cabin in place of a car, and maybe the murderer has a machete for a leg, and the unwitting morons are us.
See? See why everyone needs to cabin?