The Hermitage Beginneth

Today, at last, arrived the day when I did to my parents what Europe did to Napoleon: I sent them to an island. Never mind that Napoleon was banished to a barren crater with only a three legged iguana named Dwayne for company, and that my parents were banished to Hawaii for six weeks of whisky-fueled evenings of yoga and Scrabble. What matters now is that this cabin and all that surrounds it is now mine forever (or as long as the month of January may last). I hereby declare myself Temporary Hermit, and I invite ye frail souls to warm the cockles of your heart next to the fires of my Hermitly Wisdom.
In my hermitage I am joined by Sancho the dog and Skylar the giant snowman. Skylar, it seems, is in a very bad mood. While I went for a ski with Sancho his hat fell off in the wind, and I have neglected to make him a new one. The wind, I should mention, is already driving me fucking crazy. It has caused the temperature to hover around 40 degrees for several days, making everything one giant squishy heap of messy crap. And if you think I sound perturbed, you should hear Skylar. Him and his stupid hat.
I will now begin my own whisky-fueled evening. I predict I will beat myself at chess four times in a row, and then console myself by quietly crooning "La Cucaracha" over and over again until I lull myself to sleep.