The Zombie Apocalypse is Here (I'm living-dead proof)

Two years. Okay, I'm ready to admit that I hate to write. Not that I hate the creative process of writing, I just hate the time commitment. In my defense I work full-time, I go to school full-time, I'm a new father (okay he's over a year old now, but that's kinda new still), and I perform at an improv comedy club and teach classes there. For a guy that would pay cash money to stay at home playing video games and watching movies the rest of his life, I qualify this as, "near impossible busyness."

I'm tired. Not the kind of tired that one experiences from a hard day's work or a grueling endurance run through the Alpines (why the Alpines? No idea.), but tired in a way where I look in the mirror and I wonder how it is my body is choosing to function. This is how the zombie apocalypse will come about. I'm sure of it. Masses of people who put too much on their plate and somehow find the will, energy, and presence of thought to see it all through.

I can see it now: The streets are barren, nothing but silence. Not even the wind dares an utterance lest the wind be defiled by the endless hordes of the dead exhausted, shambling to the nearest coffee hut or caffeinated beverage stand. In the distance the first sight of the undead sleepless can be viewed upon with horror.

It would seem that in this case, our best option as a defense would be an Ambien rather than a shotgun.