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?
