Happy Thoughts for the End of Days

“Another End of Days blog post, Lizz?” “Yes. Another one, Timmy. In fact, this one is from our weird relative. You know. The one we don’t mention outside family events. Her.”

So, I’m thinkin’, you know, about the end of the world and, actually, lately, obsessing about it quite regularly and making my husband listen to a host of weird associative ideas about what to do, what to do…

“Well, if the world ends,” He says calmly, trying yet again to wedge another different character trait between us, “we won’t really be doing anything. Right?”

Ignoring him completely, ’cause I want to get my point across which seems a heck of a lot more interesting than talking about absolutely nothing, I say, “Still, I’ve made a list of things ‘to do’ when the tides rise, the earth explodes, the utilities go cold, the food slims out (along with my hips and tummy–Yay!), the clothing stores shut their doors, and, along with those shutting doors, we’re left with no shoes!”

He rubs an exasperated hand across his face trying to hide his expression (or the single glimmering thought that screams FUNNY FARM!) and says, “Okay. Whatever.”

And, it’s at this point I realize how different people are. That you can walk out of your house, get into your car, go to the store, meet other people(s–sounds like Z) in the community and never really know anyone.

Stunning. I’m veklempt by it.

So, after giving him the stink-eye (thank you “Juno” for this term), my dear, apathetic husband says, “Go on.” Waving an irritated hand in the air, like he’s King George VI or something.

“Well,” I pause. And, I pause some more… “We need to make a list.” I say, sort of testing him on the idea.

“Of what!” And, this wasn’t an I really want to know the question sort of question either. It was more like an Oh dear God, please, why me? sort of question.

Trust me. I know the difference.

A-hem. I cough. But continue quite undone by his… attitude. “Well, we need to make a list of things to get, just in case, and a big butt list, at that!” I’m nodding my head like, you know what I mean, honey? And, he’s like, are you freaking serious? And, I’m like, heck yeah, mister. This list is gonna be HUGE. And, after our talk, while I’m thinking about it later, I realize his are you freaking serious question might not have been entirely about the grocery list and more about my state of mind. But, at that point, speculation has checked in, Bob’s checked out and is off to reading his Bible study book (probably praying for some salvation from me! How cruel), and seems a bit out of the mood about discussing the necessary supplies we’ll need in the event our world falls out from under us.

Now, I’ve always been a shopper. Sorry for the jagged segue but I’m going to make a point in a bit.

The sound of electric doors swooshing open makes me feel like I’m walking onto a stage. And, the clattering of shopping carts? The maestro queueing up his first string as I make my entrance.

In fact, my shopping has always been considered awesome to those around me. It’s that Wow! effect I so dearly try to elicit and, vehemently too, in all of my most intimate relationships. [Did she just write that?] Here’s why: When I’m happy, those around me are happy and if they’re not, I’ll darn well slap them into happy! Also, shopping soothes the savage beast in me and, thus, soothing my beast doing a wee tad of shopping, the end of days seems so, oh, how shall I say it? Fun! Add that new pair of shoes? Heck. The world will seem darned brighter in no time. Trust me. It works.

Hence the shopping list.

Here’s my plan, and, you might want to develop your own but, honestly, I think mine will be the best:

  • Get all the “stuff” I will want and need,
  • Sort this “stuff” into two categories: either (1) the cold-storage category (where the rats can’t get to it); or, (2) the inside-the-house category (which will be like ice age cold anyway without the utilities working but do this step anyway)
  • Wrap “stuff” accordingly–food will be safeguarded from those pesky rats raccoons hawks fox and, of course, the cats and stored in the cold-storage areas (inside the cellar, think Wizard of Oz); and, non-cold storage “stuff” like shoes and purses and snuggly sweats, mittens and earflap bunny hats store in the inside-the-house area,
  • Then, wrap all of the non-cold storage, inside-the-house “stuff” in Christmas paper, and NEXT?
  • Open and enjoy!

Why not!? See how fun it will be? I mean, if the world will be, um, complete on December 21st, well, that’s just a couple days away from Christmas. We should all be feeling cheery and bright by that time anyway. No? So, I ask you again, “Why, the heavens-to-Besty Not!?” Think of it as an early Christmas.

I’m just trying to plan here. That’s all. Maybe you should too. And have fun with it, folks!

It’s the end of days, for cryin’ out loud. Go out laughing!



TIP #1 – When you DO buy those End of Day shoes, get ones you wouldn’t normally get. You know, like the ones your best girlfriend wears–the ones that make her look like her mother. Or, like your best guy friend when you were five years old–the ones with bouncy springs on the soles for that super fast get-away from looters and people trying to steal all the new stuff you’ve stored.

TIP #2 – Just Do It!Plan, that is. 🙂

Thanks for your time and have a good day. -Susan

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