Life under the sequester, day 6
Yesterday was mostly uneventful, though as the snowstorm cleared, I was a bit surprised to find that I’d been hiding out not in the foothills as I’d thought, but rather in the parking lot of a Del Taco, with my makeshift lean-to propped up against the drive-thru window — a relief, in a way, because that meant instead of flame-cooking over my small fire the pair of pigeons I’d shot, I could just order myself a half-dozen fish tacos with extra cabbage, instead, which is exactly what I did. Before taking a long nap on a mass transit bench.
Today — or more specifically, very early this morning — I managed to sneak back into our compound undetected, my wife having first staged a diversion by setting our neighbor’s cherry trees on fire with gasoline and one well-placed shot from a flare gun. And while other neighbors rushed out in their slippers and robes to help, followed almost immediately by local firefighters, who worked tirelessly to protect the shed where my neighbor stores her ATV, I slipped inside the subdivision perimeter dressed as an EMT, using clothes my oldest son had hidden under a patch of tumbleweeds I’d earlier wired together and placed atop a small emergency alcove in the prairie.
So I’m home now, even as local law enforcement continues to keep eyes on my house hoping to catch me sneaking back in. Which is ironic, given that I’d been told for weeks that the first agencies the sequester would affect with its draconian cuts to government spending were law enforcement and firefighters.
Frankly, I’m beginning to suspect I was lied to. Which has got to be cold comfort to that one dude I shot in the kneecap, and the three or four whom my homemade napalm attack scorched into partial human jerky.
At any rate, I have a lot of thinking I need to do today as I recover from my wilderness experience: just where are we, socially, civilly, as a result of this sequester? Are we undergoing the societal collapse that so many loudly predicted? Or am I being, you know, a bit hyper-vigilant? These are the questions I’m going to ponder today as I consider our next survivalist move.
Plus, I still have about three and a half fish tacos to eat. So there’s that, too.