With the crazy weather around here this winter, we’ve had some power outages. The first one happened at midnight. I was in the shower. Sounds like a bad horror movie, right? Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking as I stood there in a darkness so completely absent of all light, there was no slow emergence of shapes in the shadows as my eyes adjusted. Just darkness. And silence.
I called for my husband, but got no response. This is when panic kicked in. The zombie apocalypse was upon me and I was naked, wet, and still hadn’t gotten my ninja training in yet. Naked & afraid, just like the show. Ok – I have never watched the show. I feel like giving them a pair of boxer shorts would leave them equally as vulnerable and save a lot of editing.
But as I fumbled around in the dark, I started to ask myself, what do I have to offer, in the event of an undead holocaust? I read somewhere that beer makers, hunters, and gardeners will be the most valuable members of society in dystopia-type situations. In other words, I’m poised to be a serious waste of resources. I don’t even drink beer, let alone make it; I get grossed-out cleaning the turkey before Thanksgiving; and I kill even the heartiest of plants on a regular basis. I’m pretty sure my role will be something along the lines of ‘bait,’ ‘meat shield,’ or ‘target practice.’
So you can imagine my relief when the lights came back on. Plenty of time to learn how to build a solar panel, filter ground water, and master karate. Except I’m pretty sure I’d be the only person over the age of eight at the local beginning karate course, and the idea of taking some kind of eco-science class in my spare time is not exactly appealing. So the next time the power went out I was back to accepting my fate as cannon fodder.
Then I watched my children, who bicker over everything from who gets the last muffin to who has to sit in the back seat for a ten minute car ride, take all of thirty seconds to create a game and agree on the rules. It was some combination of hide & seek and capture the flag, involving Halloween masks, strobe lights, and a time machine. They played for hours, and when the lights came back on, my youngest begged me to turn them back off.
As I listened to these boys, who had been glued to screens for days, whisper, giggle, and run around in the dark, it occurred to me that instead of learning how to butcher a pig or build a still, maybe a better skill to cultivate would be learning to make the best out of a bad situation. Instead of bemoaning the things I can’t do, enjoy the things I can.
But I think I’ll start DVRing Survivorman, just in case.
I called for my husband, but got no response. This is when panic kicked in. The zombie apocalypse was upon me and I was naked, wet, and still hadn’t gotten my ninja training in yet. Naked & afraid, just like the show. Ok – I have never watched the show. I feel like giving them a pair of boxer shorts would leave them equally as vulnerable and save a lot of editing.
But as I fumbled around in the dark, I started to ask myself, what do I have to offer, in the event of an undead holocaust? I read somewhere that beer makers, hunters, and gardeners will be the most valuable members of society in dystopia-type situations. In other words, I’m poised to be a serious waste of resources. I don’t even drink beer, let alone make it; I get grossed-out cleaning the turkey before Thanksgiving; and I kill even the heartiest of plants on a regular basis. I’m pretty sure my role will be something along the lines of ‘bait,’ ‘meat shield,’ or ‘target practice.’
So you can imagine my relief when the lights came back on. Plenty of time to learn how to build a solar panel, filter ground water, and master karate. Except I’m pretty sure I’d be the only person over the age of eight at the local beginning karate course, and the idea of taking some kind of eco-science class in my spare time is not exactly appealing. So the next time the power went out I was back to accepting my fate as cannon fodder.
Then I watched my children, who bicker over everything from who gets the last muffin to who has to sit in the back seat for a ten minute car ride, take all of thirty seconds to create a game and agree on the rules. It was some combination of hide & seek and capture the flag, involving Halloween masks, strobe lights, and a time machine. They played for hours, and when the lights came back on, my youngest begged me to turn them back off.
As I listened to these boys, who had been glued to screens for days, whisper, giggle, and run around in the dark, it occurred to me that instead of learning how to butcher a pig or build a still, maybe a better skill to cultivate would be learning to make the best out of a bad situation. Instead of bemoaning the things I can’t do, enjoy the things I can.
But I think I’ll start DVRing Survivorman, just in case.
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