Hammocks

There are lots of places to lay your head in life. None is better than a hammock. When you look back on your youth from your deathbed, you should see summers full of lemonade and hammocks. We'll save lemonade for a later date. Today, we'll talk about hammocks.

Some people will tell you that the hammocks that hangs between metal poles are the best (spreader-bar hammocks, they're called). That's bullshit. Those people are wrong. When you lie in a hammock you want to pretend that you are a larva in a cocoon or a mole in the ground or a bump on a log. Not a pre-fab robot in your own back yard.



Others will tell you that the hammocks with the wood slats at the head and foot are the best, because they stretch out and allow for multiple people and/or large bears to relax at the same time.



But, unfortunately, you are not a bear. (No offense to the sexual subset.) Yes, if you're five years old you and your siblings/cousins/best friends can crowd on them, flip them and play games. But now you're an adult. Get a good hammock made out of cotton or nylon, hang it between two trees or the posts of your porch/fire escape, sit in it, read a book, takes naps and drink some lemonade. Or, a shandy (more discussion of shandies yet to come).



And don't bring back a hammock from that semester you spent in Costa Rica. Yes, we know that you got to meet the lady who made it by her own hands. We're in awe of how cultured you are.

Or, if you do get one of those, please don't tell us about it. No one cares. We're very glad you enjoyed your vacation. We took a lovely trip to Ohio last summer, we can show you our souvenirs as well. The apple butter is lovely. Getting a hammock that is also a story is best reserved for grand-mothers and vegans.