Having a broken ankle, and not working has given me a chance to pause and take stock of my life.
It's provided me with the time to ponder the important questions. These inquiries deal with life and death, love and loss - you know, the important things in life.
They're questions we ignore during the hustle and bustle of our busy lives, but ones we should consider.
For example, I was wondering, could I survive a zombie attack?
If half-dead, flesh-eating, brain-devouring zombies began to roam the earth, or specifically, my hood, would I be able to live through it?
I mean, zombies are no joke. You've got to be on your toes around them.
Just one bite - one scratch, and you're going to be the next one with oozing skin, decaying body parts falling off and a craving for some nice, hot brains.
And in recent years, zombies have grown from being slow-moving legions of the undead to being track stars with the hunting skills of jaguars.
Around 7 a.m., which seems to be the time my ankle likes to wake me up and remind me that it's broken, still pissed with me about it and in pain, I asked myself, how would I protect my brain from from the zombies?
This is some serious stuff, here, dear readers.
You've seen the zombie movies, and I think we can all agree we DO NOT want to be zombies, or get eaten by one.
So, the questions on how to survive the attack go on, and include:
What weapons would I need?
Could I protect my loved ones, including my cats, from the zombies?
Have I watched enough zombie movies to be up on how to kill zombies and not become a zombie's Fourthmeal?
(The answer to this one is yes - and that perhaps I've watched way, way too many zombie movies in the last few weeks.)
Since I came home from the hospital, I've watched almost every scary movie that's been on my directTV channels, at all hours of the day and night, because my ankle won't allow me to sleep sometimes.
Ok, a lot of times. . .
The ankle has the kind of pain that smacks you awake, saying, "Hi there, jerkoff. I just wanted to let you know I'm still here. What's on the 3 a.m. movie?"
So, I've seen more than a few zombie movies, including several views of my favorites ones in the "Resident Evil" trilogy.
Ok, maybe I do have a little too much time on my hands. But we should consider the zombies.
This concludes our "Cabin Fever Log" of the day. Stay tuned for other ramblings from your favorite fat blogger, who is cooped up in the house nursing a healing, but still broken ankle.
Ummmm now I feel like you're me and there was some sort of weird inter-dimensional time warp coast switching thing that happened, because I had a very similar thought process a couple of nights ago. Natalie the Temporarily Crippled vs. Brain Eating Zombie(s). First, I would have to flail around and scream so that my 2 kitties will know to scatter and run for their lives. As far as protecting myself, I figured that my best bet would be to reach for the "Soothing Chamomile" linen spray on my nightstand, spritz the zombie in the face with it at least a few times, and then roll over and hobble away on my walker as fast as possible. Of course, I'd have to take a moment to stuff the linen spray bottle between my boobs in my bra strap (any recently crippled woman knows this is the most effective way to carry things short distances while using a walker.) This way, if the previously squirted Zombie was able to recover and made distance in his or her pursuit of me, I could give him/her a few more good spritz's and keep hobbling. In the event that said Zombie caught me, at least I'd be eaten with the soothing scent of chamomile surrounding me.
You are killing me girl! I hoep that you feel better soon!!
Love ya!
B