Zombie bait and other musings...

 The other night, as I lay me down to sleep, I was looking at the rather large picture window that takes up most of my outside wall and realized that, in the event of a zombie holocaust, I'd be zombie bait. (Don't ask me why I think about such things; maybe it's just the gamer in me trying to find a way to express itself now that I'm no longer playing D&D.)

Essentially, not only is my room fairly indefensible against zombies (or anyone armed with a brick, for that matter), the entire house, as beautiful as it is, would have as much resistance to invasion as a greenhouse in a field of rocks. My former single room flat has more defensibility.

Granted, the property has one thing that my flat does not - the garage. Now much of the garage, too, has far too many windows to even keep a rabid gang of hoodies at bay for long, but the middle bay can actually be closed off from the front and provides far more defensive value. Furthermore, it's got a few things I wouldn't have access to in my former flat, like the spade, the machete, the chainsaw, the gas powered scythe, the axes, the pitchfork, the TRACTOR (with enclosed cabin), the other chainsaw, the pick axe, and other goodies (did I mention the machete?). Yep, a veritable arsenal of zombie destruction... if I could make it to it after the house got overrun. *chuckle*

In other news, I completed another 3.5 mile run. The thighs were a bit unhappy about that to begin with, but shut up soon after the run began. The nipples, sadly, took up the cry of complaint as they got chaffed. Yerg! Add in a bit of surveying that involved climbing over windfalls and you've got a fairly physically active day.

Final musing: camouflage is not always such a good thing. After spending an hour or so riding around on the lawnmower, I commenced with trimming the odd bits of uncut lawn with the battery powered strimmer (also from the arsen... err... garage). At one point I looked down as I saw what I initially believed to be water running along a bit of concrete. A second glance revealed the movement to actually be a baby garter snake that just narrowly avoided getting snicker sneed by the weed wacker. The wee thing made good its narrow escape and fled into what remained of the grass, disappearing from view within moments. 

Yep, that's the salient bits that have run through my mind today, only to continue without stopping...