A Man For All Seasons

patio-furniture-setsIt does not escape my attention that I may occasionally say things about Jim that are perhaps less than positive, if not so much here on this blog, then certainly in real life. It probably does not escape his attention either. Which is why today, I am going to write something very nice about him, namely, that he would be really, really good in an apocalypse.  Because he would.  I am not even making this up.

I mean, sure, he likes his nightly shower and morning cup of coffee as much as the next person. He might miss his K-Cups for a while, but give him a way to boil water and he’d be all set. He’d be fine; he really would. I, on the other hand, would not.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. The truth is, I would not only not be fine, I’d be terrible. Worse than terrible. I’d be useless, a burden which our marriage vows would force him to drag along behind him. Like a gangrenous leg.

Incidentally, I used to think that no one could survive an apocalypse; I thought that was kind of part of the definition, but young adult fiction has shown me otherwise. So, say there’s an apocalypse, and we survive. Jim would say, “Let’s go, no time to waste! We need to find shelter and a source of water!”

Several yards away, I would be saying, “Children, please stop your whining for FIVE SECONDS and help Mommy find her sparkly owl earrings. This is an awful lot of rubble, isn’t it?”

Jim would be in the woods, crossbow slung across his back, gutting a deer and preparing the hide for tanning while I was out looting ULTA, making sure I’d never run out of key cosmetic items.

Jim would forage for plants and berries that were safe to eat; I would undoubtedly make mojitos with muddled poison oak.

Jim would teach our kids all sorts of useful survival skills. I would use up all the juice of our solar-powered emergency radio charging my Kindle. And my e-cig. And my cell phone, because even though there’d be no cell towers and no internet, I am sure that somehow there would still be Facebook.

I guess the good thing about an apocalypse is the availability of things, if you think about it. At least for a while. I mean, assuming there weren’t too many survivors, I could probably get all the propane I ever needed for our little gas fire pit, which is good, because God knows our kids like s’mores. The library books would be free for the taking, which I realize they already are, but, no overdue fines. That’s nice. Plus, no more lines at the grocery store. Or the DMV, or really anywhere, I guess. You just go and get what you need and be on your way.

I think what I’d like to do most, in an apocalypse, is set up camp in a Target. It’d be good if it happened in summer, because their patio furniture section always has a nice selection of seating arrangements for any occasion. Plus, they have lots of other stuff you might need, like sleeping bags and screwdrivers and Lego sets. They have tons of non-perishable food, bicycles for the kids (also helmets, which are of course required by law; just because we’ve survived the world’s end doesn’t mean we should turn into a bunch of lawless hooligans). They have books, arts and crafts, even birthday party decorations. Face it, we’re going to need stuff like that to keep our spirits up. Plus, our Target happens to be pretty near to our ULTA. Double bonus for me. Less so for Jim.

I think hands down the worst thing about an apocalypse would be the lack of electricity. I mean, aside from all the death and destruction, of course. OF COURSE that is really the worst thing, but let’s be real for a minute. Death is a part of life. Power outages, though – well, in this day and age, I just feel they should be totally avoidable, global cataclysm or not. I get kind of clammy and nauseated when I think of all we’d have to do without: soft lighting and laundry facilities, television and toasters. All our blowup snowman and Santa Claus decorations. Word processing programs. Microwaves. Perhaps most horrifying of all, hair dryers.

I am sure Jim could rig up something using daisy-chained car batteries and a diesel something-or-other, and he would do that for me, I know he would. He would roll his eyes and complain a lot because believe me, there is nothing Jim likes better than a good cause for complaint. And I would allow him to complain about it because quite frankly, that is just how we roll. Jim complaining, me beating him over the head with my relentless insistence on optimism. “Look on the bright side,” I will tell him, when the devastation goes down. “The ozone layer may have burned up in a fiery inferno (as opposed to a watery inferno? I don’t know), but, all the free sunscreen you could want is right there in aisle A47!”

And Jim will say, “Please stop talking and just go measure the kids for their groundhog-fur ponchos.” And I will do that, and I guess that is why we’re still together. Because though he would know that my demands for hair drying capabilities were ridiculous, he’d humor me anyway, even, I believe, in an apocalypse. Because he would let me choose whichever pillows I wanted for our Target patio furniture. And I would let him dress our kids in groundhogs.

And if you ask me, that is what true love is all about.

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2 comments

  1. Melissa- you are a riot. I’m stumbled upon your FB profile, after FB suggested earlier that we may know one another. I kept saying the last name on the page in front of me. “Janisin. Janisin?!”
    So I clicked on your page in desperation. Yes! Then I knew, our boys played All stars together this summer.
    ANYWAY, I’ve read several of your blogs now, and I’m so entertained.
    Thank you for sharing your relatable thoughts. ?
    Jessica

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