Going Hermit

I have this fantasy of going Henry David Thoreau.  Now, he died at 44 from complications due to Tuberculosis, so I don't mean I want to go fully H.D.T. - just partially.  I mean that I want to live in the woods in a tiny house watching a light rain drip from the leaves overhead.  I want to walk along paths that are overgrowing with bright green moss.  I want look out and see dragonflies skimming the surface of a deep teal pond.

And I don't want any noise.  No television.  No damn phone.  No cars or sirens or people (except my wife, of course, though she would probably only be able to handle such a lifestyle for a day.)   In essence, I/we would be hermits.  I would take a Bible, a stack of sci-fi books, and a laptop, and I would fade into the shaded corners of the forest.  I would read and write all day, from which somehow, some way I would gain my income.  

Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind.  
- Thoreau 

So could I really do it?  Well, I couldn't unless my wife came with me, or at least came home to me out there every night.  I would probably need the internet, and I would definitely need groceries and electricity and running water and plumbing.  And I'd like some whiskey.  And I wouldn't want to be too far from civilization in case something catastrophic happened to me.

For some reason, I had images of Quest for Glory 1
in my head when I wrote this.

But even with all that, could I do it?  Let me just say I'd like to believe it would be worth doing.

I realize I'm hypocritical.  What I want is all of the best of a back-to-nature / individualistic / self-sufficient lifestyle without all of the struggle that comes along with it.  I want some modern conveniences while shirking many of the annoyances and frustrations that accompany and even enable them.  But so what? Aren't these impossibilities the foundations of fantasies?