Twenty-Eight Days Later

We've seen it in the movies, a lot can happen in twenty-eight days - disease can spread rampantly, societies can collapse, and zombies can wreak havoc upon the world we once knew. In twenty-eight days, in this reality, I will be fighting off fatigue on E-day, too tired to consciously hope for success, though I will have spent months prior doing just that. And fighting for it, too.

Today marks four weeks to the general mid-term election. It's as refreshing as it is frightening, because there is finally that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, but maybe it's just the spotlight of a train coming head on at you. Either way, it's almost over.

Aside from this, I haven't much to offer in the way of stories because, well, this is no Chelsea Handler memoir. I expect that you should all simply be relieved that I managed to survive my twenty-fifth birthweek. For those of you concerned that I might have died, I understand, but that was just the zombie walk.