I'm still home from work.
This morning, after I stumbled into Chicklet's bedroom to wake her for school (still delusional about the magical powers of a shower) she sat up, looked at me and said: "Mom, you're not going to work are you? Cause you look like a zombie."
Nice. I got dressed and drove her to school. I had to sit on my way back from her locker before heading out the door. Man, I'm tired.
I drove home and resisted the urge to run over a jaywalker who was walking in the middle of the street, no where near an intersection and had the nerve to look at me like she was Queen of the World and I was one of the subjects that had escaped National Beheading Day. Maybe she's never seen a zombie before.
I got home and went inside. The dogs whimpered. "What?! Haven't you ever seen a zombie before?"
I called into work and spoke to my nurse and she gave me a few tips on how to rebuild the levee in my colon. She then gave me the "don't you dare come to the office and start contaminating everyone" speech.
"Not even if I bring my antibacterial wipes?"
Although I rather enjoy a good argument, the nurse wins this one because she's the one who'll be conducting my yearly respirator fit-test and if she's anything like me, she'll remember the argument and get revenge when I am most vulnerable.... cause that's how we roll.
So... what do zombies do all day? Research the internets for propaganda against zombies... such as:
All I have to say about that is... "That's pwepostewous!"
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