…is being in control – or at least giving yourself the illusion of being in control – of your circumstances. Today, I’m totally unprepared.
Just got word that the road between me and home is still closed. I’m sitting here in a lovely living room, comfortable, warm, well-fed, surrounded by expensive toys – that is to say expensive guns, furniture, objects of art, and a survivalist’s wet dream of a food-and-fuel-laden concrete bunker – and whining and wishing to hell a few snowflakes weren’t keeping me from my cold, grungy, low-budget, much-more-secure hideaway. I miss my own digs.
“What kind of supreme being would condone such irony?”
