Which begs the question: is living without coffee really living? And zip it you, handy-dandy, super campers out there who probably pack french presses or super cowboy coffee contraptions. Somewhere between the swimmies, the contact solution and the bedding I forgot to consider coffee. So as I endured spiders bigger than mini-coopers, middle-of-the-night-drunks-who created piercing auditory vomit for 6 consecutive hours between bedtime and beyond, and tried ineffectively to keep pine needles, sand and dog hair from afixing themselves permanently to the diaper rash afflicted parts of the girls, I dreamt of coffee. Hot, strong, made-by-somebody-else-and-consumed-in-civilization coffee. Looking at this now I don’t think you can truly see how desperately we needed the coffee. I should have taken it before pulling into the hallowed…