The Hermitage Safety Guide and Urinating Trees

Another cold day today. 20 below seems to be the temperature of choice for this part of the woods. I was slothful this morning. I had no interest in doing anything at all, and I managed to make Sancho buy into this philosophy for the day. Until the afternoon, that is, but I always knew it was a battle I could never win. So I went skiing. I am trying a new strategy where I get Sancho tremendously hyped before we go out so he will sprint hither and yon through the forest foaming at the mouth until he exhausts himself, regardless of how far I am skiing. He went sprinting hither and yon, but he came back with a frozen pile of poo he found somewhere and started gnawing on it in front of me. Right now I'm thinking the results are mixed at best.

I made the very interesting discovery that I am currently living in the only urinating forest known to man. Observe...

"Sancho probably just peed there" you say. LIES. While he does feel the need to cover just about everything in the forest with his scent, he is not responsible for this. Every tree is like this, too. Do you know how quiet it is here? Very quiet. At night, I think I can hear the faint sound of the trees unzipping in the distance. They are peeing, I tell you!

In the barrels of fan mail I receive from New Zealand and Uganda, I frequently get asked questions about the problems of hermitage and the obstacles that must be overcome. They ask about the short days, the cold weather, the isolation, the lack of fresh vegetables, and of course the difficulties associated with a wood stove hot tub. I'm here to tell you that hermitage has its problems, and everything above is included on the list, but all of it pales in comparison to the one real problem I have out here: serial killers.

The isolation is the real issue here, because the nearest neighbors are at least seven or eight miles away, so even a semi-coherent serial killer would have you at their mercy should they choose to practice there nefarious habits at this cabin. Pencil into the equation the fact that there have been mass murders here before, (in 1983 a computer programmer from California went crazy and tried to kill everyone in McCarthy. He eventually ended up killing six people) and you can maybe understand my concern.

So I have spent significant time considering my options in the event I have a visitor intent upon committing some serial killings, and I am more prepared than that kid in Home Alone. First, all the windows can be covered by metal shutters which I roll down every night, seen in this horrible picture.

And then I lock all the doors, sweep every room in the house before going to bed, and sleep with an anti-tank missile on the bedside table while cradling a plethora of small arms. I also make Sancho sleep in the room, ready to sound the alarm. So to any potential Ugandan hit men planning an attack out there, be warned. I am prepared. The same routine applies when I am showering. I have never seen Psycho, and I never will because I would never take a shower again (I know I have my father's sympathy on this). Just the description of the movie provided by friends is enough to make me seriously consider showering with a butcher knife.

Speaking of Uganda, they continue to fall behind New Zealand in the Memorial Anthony of Egypt National Most Hermitly Award. Here is a photograph taken by Andy Warhol of that noble hermitly soul. It will be included as part of the prize package.