Death becomes her

So, I'm dying. Or rather, I have a cold or a flu or perhaps it is a hybrid. It started the day I wrote my last post. I woke up that morning with an odd feeling in my throat (I know what you're thinking but this is not a "that's what she said" moment, though props for thinking it *high five*). My throat wasn't sore but it didn't feel right. I knew all of that day that I would wake up the next morning without a voice and feeling exhausted. It's a dreadful thing knowing that you are probably going to be sick and miserable for a week. No matter how much Vitamin C I had I knew there was no stopping it. I was just going to have to wait it out. I wake up every morning and drink tea and eat a bowl of oatmeal. It helps the symptoms but not the mentality.

Be amazed by my MS Paint drawing skills. I call this one" BAMF with a cold."

As you've probably gathered from my last post I think a little bit too much about what-ifs. If I didn't think about zombies and demons it would probably be about bombs and explosions. Somehow zombies seem more comforting, at least I can hide or defend myself. However, when I'm sick, there is no comfort. As I'm lying there, muscles sore for no apparent reason, struggling to breath, annoyed that I have to pee for the third time in what seems like only an hour, I know I am in no shape to defend myself. Even if I were to hide, the coughing and sneezing would most likely give me away. And if the zombie epidemic begins from a virus then I might be mistaken for a zombie which could never end well. You never really see the badass heroes take down zombies while under a massive cold or flu virus themselves. They could be missing a limb or just recovering from surgery but you don't see them fighting off zombies while trying to stop sneezing. Maybe that's how they ended up with a missing limb.

Too sick to care or too sick to be scared?

Of course, dealing with a demon or ghost would just be annoying. When I'm sick my dreams are amplified and vivid. I might as well be hallucinating for all I can tell what is real. I think I hear voices as I'm going to sleep or waking up. If I weren't dying I'd be nervous and most likely creeped out. When I'm sick I just cough at it and mumble "Go away." It's incredible how what could be interpreted as brave or fearless is really just sick and grumpy. And with that I leave you so I can find some more tissues.

Zombies, demons and ghosts, oh my!

So, something happened last night that caught me unaware. The electricity went out. It couldn't have lasted longer than a half an hour. It shouldn't have made much of an impact. I was going to bed anyway. Nevertheless, I couldn't escape the uneasy feeling that the zombie apocalypse had come and there I was just sitting in the dark like an idiot without access to a machete. For a moment I was calm, I couldn't hear any groaning, shuffling, or gross flesh eating noises. This had to be a good sign. Then I sprung up with the realization that it was altogether too quiet. My lights flickered weakly for a moment as if the power was trying its darnedest to come back on. It didn't, of course, it was just a tease. I had been mistaken. This was obviously ghost activity. Or worse, a demon... I've always been pretty sure that a demon or ghost likes to hang out in my room on occasion and terrorize my cat but that's a story for another time. It had decided to come for me at last.

I stumbled to my door and called out to my parents downstairs (Yes, I'm 24 and still living with my parents. It's CA. What did you expect in this economy?). They answered quickly and calmly. If anything they sounded amused. I didn't know how to tell them that a demon, ghost, or zombies were heading our way. No need to cause a panic. They'd find out soon enough. I heard the front door close downstairs. My dad had gone outside. Apparently he went out to his car to check the radio and look for his cell phone to use as a light. We must own a dozen flashlights but half of them have dead batteries and we haven't a clue where to look for the rest. Hence, we used the light from our cell phones which are not very illuminating at all. My dad got back inside (I was thankful he wasn't bitten or attacked) informing us that there was nothing on the radio about it and that our street was out but the neighbors behind us still had power. Then I noticed a bright blue/white light outlining my parent's bedroom door.

I hadn't been prepared for aliens. Should I be friendly or attack them with a partially empty bottle of water? I yelled downstairs to my mom that there was a light in her room and it was too bright to be coming from the neighbors behind us. She had no idea what it could be but thought I should check it out. Fantastic. WWNDD (What Would Nancy Drew Do)? I slowly walked to it, certain that I was acting like the morons in horror films I'm always yelling at on screen for being so foolish. Brave and stupid, I nudged it open softly. It was one of those emergency flashlights you plug into the wall that turn on when the electricity dies. Obviously it was most useful in the room that no one would be in unless they were asleep as opposed to the hallway that would light up multiple rooms and the stairs. I grabbed it and shone it downstairs like a beacon. My dad ran upstairs and I handed him the light and went to my room grumbling and stumbling with stubborn clumsy dignity. I finally made it to my bed and laid down, fumbling with the covers for a few minutes. Once under the covers and resigned to waiting for any distressing noises, I let out a breath and the lights came back on. Yep. I'm pretty sure it was a demon. Bastard.