I'm lonely, hungry, freezing cold, and starving

No. I am not posting via crackberry from the top of Everest, I am in my very own house. The wife and children are in California visiting the Grandparents, and I’m a Bachelor until they get back.

I’m a pretty tough guy. I’m not afraid to sleep by myself in a house in the woods. I’m not even afraid to sleep in a tent in the woods by myself. I’ve done it many times.

This last week I’ve slept with my head under the covers. You see, I’ve gotten used to the idea that if the monsters/bad guys show up they will go for the easy meat (my wife and children,) first. I will wake up to their cries and take appropriate action (fight, run away?) Now though, I am the easy meat.

I do not sleep as well knowing I may be eaten alive in my slumber, or wake up dead.

I’m out of food. There was food in the fridge and pantry the first few days. Tonight though, I found some expired Orville Redenbachers popcorn in the back of the pantry. I’m out of diet coke. I could go to the supermarket. But I never seem to think of that until I’m home.

Where do my laundered shirts come from? What laundry do we use?

In '02 when we moved here we had top loading washing machines. Now we have side loading washing machines. How do I use these?

Today I left the air conditioning on with the door closed in the room with the AC controller. That room stayed hot. The rest of the house if freezing.

I’ve gotten used to all the noise of the kids. Before it was like those old jungle movies where the heroes complain loudly about the drums beating in the background constantly.

Suddenly the drums stop.

“I don’t like it,” they say to profound unease. “It’s too quiet.”

I feel like Shackleton trapped in the polar ice. Perhaps I will mount an expedition to Sheetz and hunt down some combos.

I can’t wait till they come home.

This is why I bought a house 200 yards away from my parents’ house. Whenever I forget to be a grown-up and do things like buy food or turn on a fan/use the furnace, I go to my mommy and daddy’s place to eat dinner and enjoy the climate control.

Being a grown up isn’t scary, it’s just hard to remember what to do sometimes.

My advice to you is to just sleep, like a bear, until the family comes home :slight_smile:

If the monsters come, distract them with blimps! :stuck_out_tongue:

Well if you’re hungry and in the woods you could always go out and forage. And if you’re out of clean clothes you could, uh, weave some tree bark together… or something…

Oh, and about the monsters… cover the bed in leaves when you sleep. They’ll think it’s just an odd bush.

Set the house on fire. Monsters and bad guys hate fire, and will steer clear of it.

Spread some jello on the floor in front of the door. The monster will slip and fall and won’t be able to get to you.

Beware the groundhogs, now that they know you’re alone…

Boy, how empty does your stomach have to be when you’re hungry AND starving?

I’m also famished.

Are you kidding? I love fire! Where are the matches? How come I keep getting such a bad rap, anyways…?

Now that’s just silly. I’m very light on my feeeeeeeeeeeeee… THUD

Madame, what do you take me for? I have the focus and attention span of… ooooh, shiny!

Me, too…

But does that really work with the ChickenHeart?!?

Scylla is a scaredy-cat! Scylla is a scaredy-cat! :smiley:

Order pizza.

You may thank me later with some of that yummy pizza.

The Democrats are coming.

…in your mouth!



“It’s outside of your door, and it’s going to eat YOU up!”


I just wanted to sneak into this thread and bow down in awe.
(kneels) “We’re not worthy, we’re not worthy…”

No I am not a monster in disguise.

I’m just a newbie who never met you before, and is having palpitations at posting in a thread of yours.

I would run naked through it, except it’s goddamn cold where you are. Could you turn down the goddamn AC please?

Cold? Compared to that sauna you work in every day? When’d they turn up the heating at the morgue?

(I’m sure gabriela would never be troubled by a monster. Once she’s finished describing in horrific detail the exact particulars of its internal structure, and all the bile-inducing things she’s seen go wrong with it, and shown the picture postcards of the corpse she was elbows-deep in the previous day…

Scylla, I feel your pain. Mrs. Ivorybill takes the flock, and the dog, to Maine for a few weeks each summer.

Every year I vow that I will not den up like some uncivilized cave thing in front of the tv and computer and generate stacks of funky cereal bowls and pizza boxes. But, three days later there I am, just about ready to chip some chert and carve a club.

I’ve managed to reduce the cave monster time down to about a week - - living like a cave monster has its good points and can be quite cathartic - - but then manage to rejoin the human race.

But the house is too quiet. There are no legos to step on at 2:00 am. No peanut butter encrusted Star Wars guys under my pillow. Clean laundry does not magically appear at the foot of the bed.

But dude, seriously: the monsters never start with the easy meat. They first take down the alpha beast, then dine at their leisure. Hate to burst your bubble.