*peers from the shadows and whispers*
The natives are restless.
Ever wake up in a jungle and you can just feel the change in the atmosphere? Ok, well me neither, but if I were to ever wake up in a jungle, this is what I’d picture that dangerous feeling would feel like. It’s a feral sensation in the air. There are somewhere between 6-10 adults and 6-10 kids depending on the day. I think we’re holding steady around 14 people sharing the property at the moment.
I’m not sure where I’ll get my writing done now that the house is filling up. With close to 20 people here at any given moment the third floor couches, chairs, and spare rooms are turned into bunk rooms. It’s actually great material for the novel. I get to sit back and watch 20 people that don’t know each other that well have to cohabitate for a week when things are great and stores are open. From the viewpoint of a SHTF novel I can only imagine the reality of the situation if things weren’t optimal; if stores were closed, if supplies were scarce, if resupply wasn’t possible. I find myself taking note of things I wouldn’t usually notice. Christian dutifully shakes the noisemaker toys for her twin infants to keep them smiling while she tries to enjoy lunch. Josh and Sophie sit at the opposite side of the table discussing whether its actually supposed to be called lunch or dinner. They’re divided on the issue. Adults try to make children happy with a multitude of meal choices for the sake of… Well I don’t know why.
When I grew up lunch or dinner, depending on your relation to the Manson-Nixon line, was whatever an adult said it was. You simply ate it. Today one has Frosted Flakes, another wants hot dogs, another wants a grilled cheese with swiss, another wants grilled cheese with chedder only, another wants Honey Nut Cheerios, and the older ones figure it out for themselves. Just seems like a lot of extra work with no net positive result. Come, sit, eat, go play.
Last night was interesting. Amy’s cousin Ryan finally showed up with his kids. Ryan is military, based out of Bragg, and we’ll leave it at that. A lot of my friends are similar sorts; and possessed of the personality that goes along with it; alpha male types. Anytime in nature that two alpha males happen to cohabitate in the same group, a pecking order is set, sometimes violently, but almost always with some sort of confrontation. Humans have the distinct ability to suppress that natural order if they choose to, depending on how self-aware the males are. Ryan – he’s a great guy. It didn’t take me long to make a new friend, and a useful one at that. I make new acquaintances all the time but good people are hard to come across. Ryan; he’s good people. He’d fit in with Doc and I seamlessly. We’re all leaders, all dominant personalities, but all capable of sharing the role, passing it off, or suppressing the dominant ball-swinging, grunting, and overall displays of machismo that would otherwise cause problems.
Dinner was hot dogs and hamburgers for 20 last night, after which the afternoon time in the sun began to exact its toll on everyone. Ryan and I were basically the only ones awake, so we sat on the third story deck and solved the world’s problems. We came up with solutions for the electoral college, constitutional amendments to bring power back to the states, political corruption, disbanding unions with the obvious exception of police unions, and agreed that the likelihood that our nation would survive its next generation of upcoming overly-coddled miscreant young adults is slim to none. If being PC doesn’t kill us first, that generation of panty-waisted therapy junkies certainly will. At 2:30 we gave up and called it a night.
I woke up at almost 11, much later than my planned 0800 hours, but there’s no sense in whining about it after the fact. What’s done is done. Now I’m stalking through the house like a mouse caught in a jungle full of cats. Grumpy people abound, and the strain of maintaining overt conciliation is starting to show in everyone’s face, though I’m sure they don’t know it. Lunch seemed to help a little.. hopefully feeding these cougars (lol.. see what I did there?) will pull the claws back in a little and they’ll stop looking around as if they want to eat each other.
Oops.. I just got volunteered to cut strawberries for homemade ice cream. My clan of cats is headed to the beach for some sun. Whew. *puts camoflauge face paint away* I guess I won’t be needing that after all. Domesticity calls.. more updates later.
End of log.