So, some days I actually long for the apocalypse. You know, I stare at the world and think ‘please please please!’. In fact, just yesterday I told two Londoners that London was the reason I wanted an apocalypse- so it would be deserted and I could enjoy it properly. You know, without Londoners. Fortunately they’ve lived in Norfolk long enough that their immediate response wasn’t to glass me and take my wallet, so I was fine. Maybe a little verbally brutalised.
I’m getting off track.
The point is, that despite my almost certainly unhealthy longing for and obsession with the Big A, there are still some things I’ll miss.
Let’s get the girly stereotype out of the way first, shall we? I love shoes. Like, really love them. I recently got rid of every pair of shoes I have that was unfixably broken, or where I only had one shoe, or that I never wore any more. I still have thirty pairs. And yes, it’s not like I’ll never be able to wear shoes again, I know that. But while I love stompy, practical boots, I also love stupid high heels. And I’ll never be able to wear them again. Can you see me picking my way through a ruined shop looking for medicines wearing a pair of purple patent stillettos?
Didn’t think so.
If I love shoes so much I have dreams about my ideal pair, I love books so much that I actually experience panic when I hear of book stores closing down. And again, I suppose it;s not like I’ll never see another book again (although I suppose ebooks are out. Huh, that thought alone gave me a little pang of panic.). In fact, my well-publicised plan when secure is to raid bookstores for the sort of books we need- medical textbooks and gardening books to start with, but after a while fiction, because I think a chance to escape the apocalyptic hellhole will be beneficial to all. But I won’t be able to take them all. And the longer I wait, the faster those books on the shelves will rot, their paper turning pulpy, and those wonderful, beautiful words that could change someones life in the same way Jane Eyre changed mine will be gone, forever.
Long Hot Baths
After a hard stressful day, or a long walk, or after a number of things that will be a normal state of affairs post apocalypse, I like to run a bath, pour gunk in it, and let the hot water go ahead and do the rest. There is honestly nothing better for me than to soak in hot water, and I know I’m not alone in that one. But do you think there’ll be enough water around to do that post-apocalypse? Hell no, I’ll be lucky to get a second strip wash to get the dust off me. And as a result, I won’t be able to soak the dirt and the exhaustion and the stress away- I’ll have to live with it.
Oh, internet. Gateway to whole new worlds of knowledge. You have a culture and an experience all of your own. Anyone who’s anyone can find like-minded souls using your hallowed pathways. I love you in a way that only a person brought up on sci-fi can- you are the future, astonishing, wild, filled with disturbing amounts of filth, and taken utterly for granted. Without you, people wouldn’t be able to read my paranoid ramblings (and thanks to you, those paranoid ramblings are increasingly popular). And when the bombs hit (or the zombies rise, or the disease spreads), you’ll be gone, gone. I will no longer be able to find out if that plant is poisonous thanks to a quick google search- I’ll have to actually learn things again.
I’ll mourn your loss with all my heart and soul, internet.
So, that’s what I’ll miss. What will you miss? Or is there nothing about the modern world that holds your attention any more?
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