I stirred, and rolled. I heard the words, but didn't really get the meaning. And as far as I could tell, they were being spoken by a human-sized lizard in a wide-brimmed hiking hat.
"Get up, Bob! We've got to put the fly on now!" Okay, that was no lizard, it was Laura, and her tone was unconditional. It reminded me of her "The trash truck's here and the cans aren't out" voice, only in this case she wasn't waiting for me, but was already grabbing the fly and exiting the tent. The wind was blowing sand through our campsite and drops began to fall while I hastily tried to find my headlamp and scramble out the zippered door. I pulled the fly out of the tent bag and we located the color-coded ends that needed to be snapped into the tent body. As we finished I could see through the scudding clouds that Orion was well up in the eastern sky, and there was a hint of light on the horizon. It was a lovely scene, and would have been worthy of further consideration were the elements not still threatening. Just as I was about to climb back into the tent I glanced around me and realized I had no idea what I did with the tent bag. Laura gave me a blank look when I asked if she'd seen it.
"Great, it's probably a couple of miles up the river by now," I said as we headed back to bed. Stupid atmospheric pressure gradient.