Thursday, September 11, 2014

Glasses may be my downfall

Likely due to high levels of Stephen King reading when I was young, which created an appetite for the apocalyptic genres in every medium, I spend a lot of time imagining how things would go down given a massive, traumatic event on the earth.

The event I worried about for many, many years was nuclear war. I got caught reading a book during class in grade seven, holding it under my desk and pretending to listen to my teacher. He took it away, and later said, if you're going to read during my class at least make it something worthwhile. I can't remember the name of the book (and I've tried valiantly over the years to figure out what it was) but it was about the aftermath of a nuclear war when the survivors lived underground.

Now I run through the very topical zombie apocalypse, due to a gorging on Walking Dead episodes. My biggest worries haven't changed, though, even with the shift in what exactly precipitates the apocalypse. First thing that has always concerned me has been my terrible eyesight. I mean, what if this happened in the middle of the night. Would I have time to grab my glasses? Perhaps not, if I was woken by one of my children screaming or the sound of a zombie rustling in my room. Maybe I would have to hightail it out of the bed and my useless eyes would become the bane of my existence, causing me to mistake humans for zombies and vice versa.

Or maybe I have my glasses on before the atom bomb strikes. What if a falling tree hits me on the face, and even worse than the long bleeding cut that could become infected is the cracked lens on one side. Will my life of foraging for non-radiation tinted food also consist of breaking into optometrist's offices, searching for +1.25 glasses or contacts?

Now of course I can add the lame leg. Husband and I have talked about this, and while it does sadden me on a personal level I agree wholeheartedly with his assertion that not only would he leave me behind (if you haven't seen me I walk really, really slow. Like molasses), but he might actually push me toward the zombies so they are distracted while he saves the children. The fact that he is saving the children of course negates any leg I have to stand on and be mad he isn't crafting a sled or something to drag me around with.

I worry about all the usual stuff, like food and firewood and how many windows we have in this house and how they really aren't all that airtight now and what would happen if the furnace was off and this house would be really cold and would it be warmer in the basement or on the main floor? And I think about all these people who are apparently preparing by storing heirloom seeds for food and learning how to can things and preserve things and shoot their own game and I think, ahhhhh, I don't know. I might just give up pretty darn quick. I'm not handy, my eyesight is poor. I've got shitty knees and very little survivorman type knowledge. I probably should've been weeded out of the world's gene pool long ago.

No wonder I get insomnia. I need to figure out some more positive things to think about when I go to bed.

1 comment:

Linda Forbes said...

This is the funniest thing I've read in a long time.I can relate!! Good job.