7

I packed a small light backpack full of canned food, my headlamp and my military tent/poncho that i still do not know how to make into a tent.  This was at about five in the evening, and my plan was to set out early in the morning, with the hope of making it to the little farm in one day.  I put the bag by the door and then stood in the middle of the living room for about ten minutes picking up objects, feeling their weight, looking at them sideways and pretending to swing them.  I thought of pulp fiction; i felt foolish.  In the end i settled on a cricket bat i had been given as a birthday present, despite the fact I do not play cricket, back when i was in college.  I had already been sleeping with a mean, sharp cooking knife slid between the mattress and the box-spring of my bed so that the handle was within easy reach.  It had its own little sheath i found in the back of the junk drawer, which i tossed next to the bag by the door.  My Leatherman was still attached to my belt, but i added it to the pile next to the door, creating a physical checklist for myself in the morning.
For dinner i ate the rest of the bread and cheese i'd been saving, washed down with flat Moxie.
I turned my phone on again, checked for service, cursed and turned it off.
I checked every entrance, I swear i did, I did every night; i know because i fall asleep by going through my checklist again and again in my head, locking doors and locking windows and closing shades.  Since everyone left, i guess i'd become a bit nuts.
I didn't get to sleep for hours.