Last night, we went for a walk with our dogs.
We found a HUGE pile of wood chips--probably 20 feet tall--in a parking lot near our apartment.
So, naturally, we climbed it, let our dogs climb it, and slid down.
It was sort of romantic in the dark, worrying a little about getting caught but doing it anyway, the orange street lights giving just enough light. Bagheera wouldn't go to the top until someone did before him, and Bert wasn't interested until I was at the top, which made him freak out and and run up the side of our wood chip mountain. (Bert loves me and I love that.) My housband didn't make it to the top, but mostly just because he didn't try.
We continued on with our walk, on which we saw horses, people, a giant dirt mountain, a bonfire, and a neighbor who asked to pet our pups.
Then I found wood chips in my underwear (!!), behind my knees (I was wearing long johns, which in itself is an entirely different story), and in my shoes all night.
And yet, it was completely worth it.