In terms of intensity, the life of a cabin counselor ranks up there with that of an inner-city repo man.

I know. I spent the weekend chasing a rambunctious group of 12- and 13-year-old kids around camp.

At six o’clock on the first morning I woke to find one of the tykes attempting to glue my head to my pillow with hair gel. I growled and the youngster darted back to another bunk giggling.

I got even though – Yes, I hung a pre-adolescent child from the rafters by the undies.

Tuesday’s Forecast: Skidmarks and chafing.