In Which it seems reasonable to conclude that the Apocalypse would probably suck

Have you ever read a book by John Wyndham? Surely you must've done, Day of the Triffids, The Chrysalids, The Midwich Cuckoos (which they made into the rather melodramatically named movie Village of the Damned). They're usually sort of quasi-post-apocalyptic end-of-the-world stuff, where the heroes have to try to fight off/survive the ravages of terrifying monster plants, alien possessors, and people who've got completely the wrong end of the stick eugenics-wise in post-nuclear worlds of mutations, extra toes and explosions.

The thing is, they're sort of fun, yeah? Same as zombie movies and disaster movies and such. Sort of an 'Oh no! The end of the world as we know it! How awful! So, uh... so what you're saying is that I don't have to go to work on Monday?' kind of thing. Like, secretly, we all believe it would be a little bit awesome. And that's sort of great, really. It would be a brief comfort to us if it ever did, as well as being a pleasant way to pass a rainy afternoon in the meanwhile.

Because the odds of the world ending during our lifetimes are pretty slim, right, so there's not much risk of us having to face the reality of how it would actually be if everything and everyone we liked caught fire or drowned. Or both! At once! (See this is the problem, if you think about it too superficialy, it sounds like a Michael Bay movie, all exciting and explodey, rather than like being terribly uncomfortable and distressing, like a Michael Bay movie that you have to watch more than once, while completely sober.) Conversely, if it does happen, then as long as we don't get distracted by our awareness of our own terrible hubris for long enough for the zombies to get us, then there's really no harm done.

Unless, of course, we somehow get carried away with our enthusiasm and accidentally bring about the end of the world just because it sounds like a laugh, I guess. I think, though, we can probably avert that particular brand of disaster if we all just pinky-swear right now to definitely not, in any way, bring about the end of the world in any way shape of form. This means you especially, Dear Reader. You guys are both smart enough and excitable enough to accidentally-on-purpose set a bunch of velociraptors loose just to see whether your house meets the standards set by International Secure Your Home Against Raptors Day. (For Science!)

But the problem is, right, that last week I went skiing. (Bear with me, this gets relevant, I swear.) At the snow, the place where we stayed had really good central heating (and heaters AND an open fire! From my shivering vantage point here in my chilled flat, this seems like unimaginable luxury, as indeed it was), and it's not that I would miss that sort of thing in the event of an unscheduled return to a pre-civilised world (although I sure as hell would). The thing is, I failed to keep my week's worth of thyroxine (that's my anti-hypothyroid medicine for those of you playing at home) in the fridge while I was away, like I was supposed to. Usually, n my aforementioned chilled flat, this wouldn't be a problem, but in that toasty snowside apartment, the warmth straight-up denatured the whole lot. I didn't actually realise this until this week, when I was back to being all slow and morose unexpectedly, and I realised rather late what had happened. Obviously, this is not a serious long-term problem, because I have the rest of my medicine here at home, and it's been kept in the fridge.

But this really brought it home to me: I'm sort of reliant on modern technology a bit, now. I mean, obviously I always was, I probably couldn't live a week without recourse to things that were invented in the last 150 years. I certainly never have so far. But I reckon that I could probably take a crack at post-apocalyptic living on a good day. I'm pretty good in a crisis, and once I've resigned myself to a life without caffeine (which would take a while, what with the crippling caffeine-withdrawal headaches I'd be having for the first week), I think I could probably scrape together a coping strategy, as long as that's actually in some way possible. (So, obviously I don't expect to beat a world covered with lava, or something. I just think I could give fighting-off-giant-alien-spiders a shot, y'know?) But really, I'd only be at my best for maybe a month or so before I ran out of medicines and just wound down, like one of those battery-powered rabbits that the Energizer Bunny is always owning. And I'd like to see me fighting off man-eating killer plants while running at one-fifth speed and angsting about how now that 98% of the world's population was dead I would probably never get to live out the plot of a chick movie.

(Actually, I kind of would like to see that; until the bit where I inevitably get supped on by the agents of Armageddon, it might make for an amusing 8 second vignette.)

It's a pity, really, because if we discounted the thyroxine bit (and while we're at it, we'd probably better discount all the charming conveniences of modern medicine; I think we're likely to die of something pretty rapidly, otherwise, what with the Death, War, Famine and Pestilence that'd be going about) it could be a tiny bit neat. If nothing else, there'd be fewer delicious Maltesers, and probably a great deal more exercise, so I figure that after a little while we'd all be looking svelte and terrific. It would sort of level the playing field: those of us who usually keep in shape by baking cakes and watching Doctor Who would shrink, and those unsporting types who go to the gym all the time and take supplements and whatever it is such people do would lose at least the more pointless muscles. To keep it fair and reward them for their hard work, they'd be in much better zombie-outrunning condition, but on the other hand, the chubbier amongst us have reserves of energy to allow us to survive post-apocalyptic famine. Like camels, living off their humps! (Sorry, Skinny Nerd Readers, the only consolation for you is that you're brainy enough to outthink the zombies and contain little enough nutrition that they're unlikley to try that hard to eat you.)

Plus, like I said, very little to do by way of paperwork. The entirety of federal and state politics, as well as pop-up ads, telemarketing and The Twilight Saga would be things of the past! We would look back nostalgically and be all "remember public transport? Man, I miss those times".

Still, do not let such considerations tempt you into bringing about the end of the world, please. Remember, we Pinky Swore, and that, my friend, is a sacred vow.