Here's the Scoop: April 17, 2013
I recently concluded a strenuous endurance test — eight days living “off the grid,” on my own.
Maybe “off the grid” isn’t exactly accurate. I had electricity. There was plenty of gas for the stove (although it wasn’t needed). But, I was still roughing it because my wife was called out of town for a business trip. The “business” primarily involved touring the Left Coast with her three sisters, enjoying sun and surf on a long-planned getaway.
Sun and surf are things that I enjoy, but since I didn’t fit the “sister” definition, I was left home to deal with biting winds and the lingering winter’s aftermath. And all the junk food I could stomach. Yeah, Bachelor Party!
OK, so I may be exaggerating the excitement factor a bit. But, still, the day-to-day routine would be tossed aside. What to do first?
The most obvious difference during my bachelor week was a “lack of formality.” Meals were no longer eaten at a table. Heck, even silverware was discarded. I know that sounds a bit messy, but it’s not when you consider that just about every meal involved eating a sandwich.
And, not just any sandwich: tuna fish. Because it’s relatively easy to make, tuna was my “go-to” meal during the period that I have dubbed: My Week of NOT Meeting Daily Nutrient Requirements.”
It wasn’t like I was that fellow a few years back who decided that it would be a good idea to eat nothing but McDonald’s food for every meal, but my nutrition consumption certainly was slipping way below recommended norms. That’s OK, it was only for eight days.
I have standards
Before you get the wrong idea, I didn’t have anything resembling tuna for breakfast. I do have some dining standards. For the rest of the time, though, tuna was pretty much a constant companion. So was the cat.
This was all fine for a while. Eating in front of the TV was pretty nifty, too. Most people consume hot dogs while watching baseball games – wolfing down tuna sanwiches (with pickles) while catching the action actually made me feel like I was on a health food kick compared to the ingredients in the average hot dog.
At the start of my eight days of bachelorhood, I had all sorts of grand plans about “projects” I could get done around the house and yard. I accomplished none.
In fact, despite the fact that I didn’t do much besides mix up an occasional batch of tuna and open a few bags of chips, I managed to make quite a mess around the house. I’m not sure how this happened.
Anyhow, it seemed like a good idea to tidy up a bit before the household occupation size returned to normal. So….on the Seventh Day…I cleaned. A lot. It felt like Tom Cruise giving his house a top-to-bottom scouring in the classic film, “Risky Business.” I hadn’t experienced nearly as much fun at Tom, though.
— Brian Sweeney