Hermits

It’s pissing down. I was planning on heading into town today, but I reckon we’ve copped about 4 inches of rain since 06:30 this morning (6 hours) and we had more in the early hours. The driveway is a creek & there is no way to get out. But I have food. 🙂
I was thinking today about people who leave ‘society’ to live alone, in some patch of bush somewhere, or a house in a forgotten inner suburb of an overcrowded city.
I guess I was doing some self analyzing, considering my new digs, and wondering if the lifestyle of a bush hermit would be healthy for me mentally.
I figure both types of hermit are much the same. The difference being one wants to remove themselves completely from the luxuries of civilisation and interaction with people. Whereas the city hermit needs to have the things a community provides, but still remains anonymous among millions of people.
I remember from my childhood days in Sunnybank, in Brisbane (Aust). As an eight year old, I used to hear about the hermit that lived in the bush up the road. I used to imagine a little shack in the scrub, surrounded by scrounged treasures, with a cranky old man sitting, drinking billy tea & shouting at the world. Yeah, strange. I wasn’t really sure whether the hermit was real or a schoolyard myth. Years later, by chance I saw an article in a Brisbane newspaper about the Sunnybank ‘hermit’. He was real. Not long after I’d read the article, I saw a news bulletin about the same hermit. He’d been bashed to death by local thugs. The poor old bugger was in his eighties. He lost His anonymity, and then His life.

I sit here at this little hideaway, knowing that if I stay out here, it’ll be another three days before I get a visitor. I kind of like that. A week without seeing people, or having to pretend to be happy. I can just be. I can cry when I think of Her if I want. I don’t have to swallow my grief. I can just go day to day & not have to act ‘normal’ in front of people. I do need to do stuff though. See the doctor, see Centrelink. Get my Super forms sorted. Sometimes I think *I* need a carer to get my shit sorted. I want to see my daughter, but I can’t leave until I have a vehicle I can put the dogs in. I have about 2 months to get my shit together, and I think I can do it. So long as my anxiety when waiting at Centrelink or in the docs waiting room, I should be OK. I have been leaving everything til the last minute, but I can’t leave this stuff much longer.

Right now though, I  can do nothing. It’s to wet to get the falcon out, and Jimmy is in no state to drive. Slippery clutch mainly, but no rego either.
Tomorrow maybe.

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