ARRRRGH THE WIND! WHY MUST IT HAUNT ME SO?

Well, the weather decided to go absolutely batshit insane again. The Wicked Wind of the East returned in full force, raising the temperature to 42 degrees. It is blowing harder than any wind I have ever experienced out here. It has knocked everything down that used to be standing and moved everything that isn't tied down with steel cables to some other place. The windmill has been so loud all day that it sounds like an 18 wheeler A HALF MILE DOWN THE ROAD. How do I know that the windmill is that audible a half mile down the road? I will tell you later. Skylar is in absolutely terrible condition, and I am worried that he just might fall apart. His weight is way down and he generally has a really unhealthy, pockmarked aspect to him that is a cause for concern. If you need any further confirmation about how hard the wind is blowing, then observe this bird nest.

"Oh, wow, Hermit, did you have to climb a tree for that nest?" NO! I did not have to climb a tree! Know why? The nest got blown out of the tree! It was just resting in the middle of the god damn road! At least it didn't rain. OH WAIT. There was torrential downpours last night. When I woke up this morning I was pretty sure the house was cruising across the Pacific on moderately heavy seas in search of giant squid or something, because the windows were covered in spray. I couldn't even see outside most of the ground floor.

I was resigned to waste my day. Have the heavens ever granted a greater excuse for sloth that when they choose to rain on top of snow? There is absolutely NO reason to go outside. So I didn't. I decided I was going to turn in a sub par blog entry without any pictures, drink Irish whiskey until I couldn't hear the windmill thrumming away inside my mind, maybe watch a Jackie Chan movie, and pack it in. But then, dear readers, there was a knock on the door.

I just about flipped my shit. I was tempted to sprint to the bedroom and grab the 50 cal before I answered the door, but I didn't and you know why not? It wasn't because I wasn't convinced the person on the other side was going to kill me, but because I wanted to answer the door in a timely fashion. I am so conditioned to answer the door promptly I will throw all personal personal safety to the wind. I would let Ted Bundy in before getting the gun so he wouldn't have to wait. Ahhh, the things this hermitage has taught me.

So instead of grabbing some weapons I called out "Who is it?" and a voice replied "Tim Nelson". I thought, oh, great, Tim Nelson, and opened the door. He was already inside before I realized that I have no idea who Tim Nelson is. Good thing that Tim Nelson is a really nice guy, one of my neighbors (about 25 miles away) and that his car was stuck a half mile down the road, where he had been hearing an 18 wheeler despite the fact he knew there was no such thing on the McCarthy road (it was the windmill). So we went to rescue Tim's car. The road, it turns out, is like an ice rink with a swimming pool on top of it. Driving on it was like trying to drive on a submerged iceberg. So we put on the chains, and then we had to go through the whole rigamarole of attaching the winch (see Wenchy Winches if you are interested in a more detailed description of this onerous task), and pulling out Tim's car. It worked, eventually, but the problem was the road was tilted and so slippery that every time I pulled him out, his car would just slide right back off the road while at a standstill. Physics teachers could use the road today to demonstrate a perfectly frictionless surface. I saw Sancho fall down while standing still. I recognize that he is a clumsy dog, but usually he can stand up without falling on his face. Not today. No sirree. I swear to god a kitchen table would lose its legs if you tried to put it on that road. I am starting to wonder if I will make it out of this hermitage, or if I will be forever doomed to falling on my face over and over again on a frictionless surface until the end of time. Tim got turned around and headed to the neighbors to spend the night, having decided that he wasn't going to make it home. I didn't bring a camera along to document the action, so I only have this picture of my hand to prove that Tim does in fact exist, and that tire chains are dirty.

Status quo on the MAoENMHA, although Australia is all of a sudden looking like it wants to play the game. Is it too late? Only time will tell.