Anyway. So I'm sitting in his dark room, rocking back and forth on our cream glider and my thoughts start to wander, as they often do. I hear the wind has really picked up again and this gets me to thinking about how awful it would be if we lose siding (thank you, Andrea, for implanting that thought). We've already lost a gate from the wind a couple weeks ago. Why does it always feel that you're losing some sort of battle when you own a home? Then I started hearing creaks and groans through the house - from the wind, of course. But this got me thinking zombies.
I'm truly terrified of zombies and I'm certain they'll exist someday and I'll have to fend for myself because I might be the only real human left. I sat in the rocking chair doing one of those things that I do best in quiet moments. I created different scenarios in my head of zombie attacks on the house and how we best could handle it. In today's version, they were surrounding the house so we grabbed some garbage bags and threw in jugs of water, baby food, formula, bottles, crackers, and other random foodstuff that we could sweep into the bags in such a pinch. Then we ran up to the second floor and destroyed the staircase. I'm not sure how we did that but it happened. We must have somehow had some explosives in the house; I'm not sure where they came from. Manna from heaven. Once on the second floor we grabbed diapers and wipes and headed straight for the attic. Then we destroyed that staircase as well. We could hear the wheezy moans of countless zombies below us but we were safe now. There was food, water and we had each other. I'm always the hero in my own zombie story.
By the time I saved us from the zombies, Asher was done eating. I burped him and got up to change his diaper. I checked behind my shoulder a couple times (for curiosity sake, not because I was scared or anything), put his sleeper back on, kissed him on the forehead and laid him back down. I walked back over to bed, laid myself back down, closed my eyes and feel right asleep. Then I dreamt of porcelain chickens, six bottles of Sriracha and an old English manor house.
my imagination is too active.