How many everyday decisions do you tackle through the filter of "what does this mean for the coming zombie apocalypse?"
I'm worried the number is kind of high for me.
For example, when my eye doctor's office asks me how many sets of contact lenses I want, I don't have a fast answer. I could base it on price, maybe a guess about how long it will be until my prescription might renew or change. Most people do this calculation quickly in their head and respond.
My mind wanders into the territory of "will I be able to see when I am running from the zombies?" If I stockpile too many sets of lenses now, it's possible they'll expire before I can get through them all - doomsday scenarios could be a ways off - but if I don't get enough, I could find myself nearsighted at just the wrong moment, missing the faint silhouette of a brain-thirsty member of the undead off in the distance and losing precious seconds to act.
(The "zombie apocalypse" is of course shorthand for any number of dramatic world-changing events that could leave me and presumably some other humans alive but fighting for survival while deprived of most or all modern conveniences like power, clean water and Prime shipping. Global political/social unrest, catastrophic climate change, accidental nuclear launches, etc. just begin the list of events that could match an actual zombie outbreak in impact, but it helps me focus by summing it all up with "zombies.")
I also start playing out scenarios for how quickly I could get to an intact bulk source of contact lenses. It would probably be bad to depend on having enough for long-term survival in my own possession on day one, since I might not be at home, or my house could be overrun before I have time to pack everything ("go bags" are a blog post for another time). In theory things will get bad enough quickly enough that it would be perfectly ethical for me to break in to a local drug store or optometrist's office, but I'm not sure how many other desperate people might get the same idea at the same time. I haven't bothered to start researching Acuvue truck delivery routes because they'll probably change before it matters to me, and breaking into a semi truck on an open highway somewhere just leaves you exposed in all sorts of ways.
You've thought about this too, right?
I've considered laser eye surgery, but (a) lasers cutting my eyes, no thank you, and (b) my understanding is that recipients of said surgery will probably need corrective follow-up procedures several years down the line, and finding a well-staffed, well-lit laser eye center in the midst of the end times seems like it could be even harder than getting some replacement lenses.
So I think the best bet is to err on the side of having enough lenses to get me through the initial months of zombie unrest, and then hope I can incorporate a restocking into the plan that emerges as we go. But what if th--
What's that? The office is closing? You only have a 6-month supply in stock right now anyway? That'll be fine, thanks. Oh hey, which room do you keep those in by the way?
Photo by Stephen Dann
One thought on “Zombie analysis paralysis”
For me, it's hearing aid batteries.