The other night was clear, cool, but not cold and perfect for spending the night in the backyard. So we moved slumber bags, extra blankets and the port-a-crib all out to a large plastic dropcloth (all our tarps being either in use or shredded by excessive use), lit a fire, sang songs told a few stories and turned in for the night. I'm sure the people next door had been hoping we would be the normal neighbors, but no such luck for them.
In the morning we woke covered with dew and the older of us (without young, flexible muscles and skeletal structures) were rather stiff and tired, but it was agreed by all that the camp out had been a success. I'm not saying I wasn't yearning for my nice, soft bed at times, but nice, soft beds don't always leave the memories that campfires and nights under the stars do, even if they are more comfortable.