This might get cut off in your email so the demand this week is to open in your browser, spread the word about my Substack, and then tell me how long you’d last in the zombie apocalypse.
There are some mornings in my neighborhood where it’s eerily quiet, especially the day after a long weekend when people have partied extra hard because capitalism has given them a day off to do so.
This happened the other week. On a late Monday morning, I woke up and looked out of the window before my partner headed out to walk the dog—and there was no one outside. I finally spotted one person sort of lazily walking through the alley with their back facing me, and I immediately thought the apocalypse had started while I was sleeping.
I don’t know why I always assume that I’m Cillian Murphy in 28 Days Later, but it was my first thought—and it always is when it’s completely and utterly quiet and empty out in the world or at least, on my block.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Hi Shelli to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.