And I am deVOURING World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War. Talk about your creepy political allegories. Man! JB gave it to me yesterday when I stopped by the office, and I’ve been glued to it ever since. Iff’n I hadn’t been so tired after a 5 HOUR COUNCIL MEETING last night, I’d have probably plowed through it, it’s that good. Wiki does a good job of outlining, but it’s a book about the aftermath of the zombie virus’ descent (yes, as in flesh-eating, living-dead people) on Earth 10 years out. The author, Max Brooks, wrote it as a compilation of the interviews he conducted with survivors from all over the world that weren’t allowed to be published in the government’s white papers on the incident, and it’s just unbelievable. The insight is amazing.

It’s a nice diversion, anyway, since Mother and I had another one of our knock-down drag-outs earlier. See, it looks like someone—and we suspect it’s her creepy forner neighbor who got evicted a year ago—tried to break in to her storage unit at her crib by taking a hack saw to the lock. They didn’t get all the way through, but there is a substantial chunk taken out of the hook. Anyway, after panicking enough to get me to rush her to the locksmith yesterday (because, you know, the would-be thieves were going to return within the one or two hours that I couldn’t get to her) we got a heavy-duty German circle lock that ain’t no one gonna break. And you know how people get flummoxed when they’re panicked? Yeah, Mother was on Defcon 5 and couldn’t get the lock on. So today, I go over and, well, lookee there, I get the lock on. Granted, the door on the locker is a bit warped, and it could’ve been tough for her yesterday since she was on Defcon 5, but it was on now and that was the point, right?

No. No, no. Because then, she insisted that I get the lock OFF to prove that she won’t have a problem doing it herself. And when she’s sitting there clucking and rending her garments, it’s never easy to do anything except pray for death, doesn’t matter whose. Long story short, SHE got the lock off, but is going to take it back because it’s too hard to get off and on when she wants to go in and, oh, put her Christmas tree away or look at the 50 year-old stationary bike she has in there.

When the whole ordeal started yesterday, I came into the office and unloaded on a couple of my colleagues, one of whom was kinda taken aback at my frustration. And when I later went back into her office to apologize and clarify that no, I really DON’T hate my mother even though it may sound like I’m going to throw her out of my moving vehicle, she of course said, “Be glad you HAVE a mother.” And you know, thanks, I get that, but I defy ANYONE to try dealing with her for one week and see if they wouldn’t be driven to drink after the first three days. No one has any idea how difficult it really is.

But you know the other thing I can’t talk about? That’s doing just fine, thankyew. So at least I have THAT going for me.