I often think about if there was an apocalypse and I was forced to retreat to the forrest and fend for myself how long I’d last. I’d guess three days, tops. I’d probably eat the wrong berry or trip on a branch, break my leg, and wither away on the forrest floor like a wounded moose. Other people would be foraging for food or telling time by the sun’s position; I’d be crinkling my nose at the thought of having to wipe my ass with a leaf. Ugh. I’d rather die than deal with nature for longer than an afternoon.
(via Shmitten Kitten)