2.8 Days Later–Entry 3.0
I have returned to the Tudor style ice castle to defend its walls against raccoons and other marauders. The night is still. My wife, my children, my neighbors have abandoned our waste land for warmer climates. The generators are silent. I am huddled in my 20-degree-below REI sleeping bag previously purchased for my daughter’s Adventure Guides trips, and I thank the Ma
ker for having made that purchase as a member of REI (10% back every year). Slightly inebriated from spending 4 hours at my friend’s house with a whole-house generator, I am left to contemplate whether I have bandwidth enough to enjoy streaming Netflix. I shall try–as a mark of my commitment to survival, to maintaining the Short Hills way of life. For tonight, for this dark night at least, I can be strong. I will not amputate my own arm. I will not drink my own urine. I can make it through to morning when I can savor the bittersweet aroma of Starbucks Via and stovetop boiled water.
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Justice Redux 