Day of the living undead

Oh my, Internets and most of my life in general went on a break. Let's sum it up with "serious health issues", for me and some for mine. 20 years down the road it will not be likely that I'll remember this past year as anything other than a time of darkness, pain and nothingness, but I can categorize a whole lot of other times in my life as such as can plenty of other people. Being terrible at life is incurable. When things are bad we're told to reach out to those that are near us, but I do exactly the opposite and retreat into a cave. In my private bomb shelter I stay safe from imaginary nuclear apocalypses. Emerging, I expect to be surrounded by angry flesh-eating ew-covered ugly zombies, but instead, shielding my eyes from the surprisingly warm and harmless sun, I see nothing but good people. You'd think that after one or two emergency shelter vacations filled with stress and anxiety I'd learn that zombies are as unlikely to await me upon emergence as... well, zombies. And I know. But I am irrational and fully aware of it.

Stuff I do now:
* sleeping 8 hours every night, waking up early every morning.
* trying to put pieces back together and fix stuff
* remembering how to walk again
* brushing cobwebs out of my brain
* learning to drive
* biking everywhere even though my lovely Cannondale F4 died of HeadShok failure
* cooking stuff that's not pasta sometimes even though Brian is still the king of making good food
* working
* consuming medicine to stay alive.

All in all, nothing much worth noting. I have a goal this year and I mean to accomplish it. Sealed the doors to the emergency bomb shelter, will be facing the next doomsday above ground. Scrubbing clothes with a brush and soap high in alkalines. In case zombies do make an appearance--well, God bless the shotgun. Or just build simple elaborate traps.

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