Last Sunday, Jason and I took the girls on a drive to see the fall leaves. We drove up a twisty, turny road that looped up the mountains east of our house and it. was. gorgeous.
The view was spectacular. It was just past the peak of the leaves, but there was still a lot of beautiful scenery.
Unfortunately, I kept ruining it by thinking about our survival odds in a zombie apocalypse.
"How crowded would this road get? It seems like "into the mountains" would be a great place to flee, so does that mean it would be choked with traffic?"
"How long would it take us to walk up into the mountains if we had to? Helena is such a slowpoke and a complainer, we would be doomed if we had to flee on foot."
"Our survival skills are severely lacking. I don't think we could build a fire, much less adequate shelter. And as for food? No way."
"Wouldn't it be so depressing to have survived whatever it is and somehow made a life for ourselves, but still be able to look down into our old town and neighborhood.... to be living a life ruled by fear, cold, hunger, and sorrow, and be able to look down into the heart of our old, happy life..."
HOW'S THAT FOR DEPRESSING????