Because I like to 1) overplan, 2) daydream, and 3) make decisions about events based on Internet  browsing and vague ideas of movie plots, I have given some real thought to the end of the world next year.  I mean serious thought, down to imagining a conversation with my mom where I explain to her why we don’t plan to spend the end of days at my parents’ house (“It’s too far to drive” and “we can’t bring the dog,” are my main reasons).

If the world is about to end I won’t be the type to panic and riot.  I’d be calm and practical, like the dad from “28 Days Later.”  If we are given a countdown to world demolition then I want to go on living as usual by spending time with my husband and daughter (I will assume that Netflix will probably cease to operate, so we mostly have to adjust to that).  A lot of the public will panic and get violent and crazy.  I want to put the call out there that if anyone is interested in forming a commune-type situation where we can pool resources and protect each other, please let me know.  But let’s wait for more birds to mysteriously die or a mountain to melt, or whatever things are supposed to occur.  I have run this idea by my associate, and since I don’t think that he thinks there’s a chance that Mayan predictions will come true, we’ll call my plan “Plan A.”

NASA‘s refute of pending doom is solid, but for some reason it doesn’t put me at ease.  I might stock up on beans and distilled water.  And shotguns in case someone in the commune does go nuts.

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