Scott is having one of those interesting weeks where you wind up at the doctor a few times to rule out lots of stuff and everyone is scratching their heads. So he's home on loads of prednisone, twiddling his thumbs, and he starts rattling about all the ways we're going to outwit zombies when the attack finally comes, like building a plank mechanism out one of the upstairs bedroom windows to trick them, as soon as they're on it we can dump them while we watch from the roof, on which we'll have pulled up the extension ladder. Not that zombies have ever been able to figure out how to climb ladders, right, but just in case.
Every time we go in, the doctor runs down the same list, and every time she asks if there is any new confusion it's all I can do not to pop up and say, "Nope, we're ~real~ clear on the plan to wait out the zombie apocalypse on the roof while we bait and kill zombies with a gizmo outside a window."
Today is our 19th anniversary. I'm not entirely sure Scott hasn't already started turning into a zombie. I'll have to think of an alternate escape plan in case he tries to eat my brain or something.
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