Monday, September 9, 2013

Pass my venti iced chai latte sugar free vanilla please

Six months later I return. What can I say, it's been a busy summer. Gardening, building stuff, plotting governmental overthrows, selling rabbits, canning. Naw I'm just kidding, I haven't actually been canning. What I have been is lazy with a capital Z.

I call it Prepper Burnout. I'm sure you're familiar with the symptoms. Obsessive binging on depressing news, rising prices of everything and anything, layoffs, urges to hoard toilet paper, followed by the desire to never get out of bed ever again. Once this passes, the sufferer will be overwhelmed with the need to say FUCK IT! head for the nearest Starbucks, and bleat like a fat sheep.

What set this off was my inclusion into a loose knit group of preppers. At the helm of this group is a tough old bird who has graciously put up the land for a retreat, if only we will help turn it into one, but he doesn't want to be the Grand Poobah Leader... and the rest, while likable, are clearly followers. If my years of playing the leader have taught me nothing else, it's that I always wind up being the ant to a herd of grasshoppers, and so I'm not volunteering for the position either.

To get this group together for anything more than the occasional online posting is like herding cats, and so I find myself wondering if we are better off going with our original plans of hunkering down here. Once I returned to the reality of doing it all by myself, my usual obsession with being self sufficient has gone the way of a wet witch in Oz. I want to watch bad TV and drink Starbucks and pretend Obama really is the Dear Leader my parents insist him to be.

Except I can't, at least not for long, and so I'm back with my expired grits and cordless drill and Homer buckets and barely broken in Doc Martins.

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