Worst. Apocalypse. Ever.

I don’t know about you, but now that the holidays are over, I’m suffering from a bit of post-apocalypse letdown.

Once the initial disappointment faded, I was seized with the realization that I no longer had the end of the world to blame for my failure to get my Christmas shopping completed. The blinding panic of trying to get everything done in a few short days  meant I was suitably distracted from the weight of the soul-crushing calamity of the continuation of the status-quo.

After the flurry of last-minute shopping and task completion stopped, it was the holiday itself. Work was forgotten, and I settled in for a few days of navigating the nuances of family dynamics, and the overly stimulating cacophony of sugar, expectations (some exceeded, others falling short), and underwhelming nostalgia.

And then, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself, and the enormity of the sad continuation of the world fell onto my all-too-squishy head.

I had planned to be happily occupied with re-building society, or securing sources of food and water, and suddenly my schedule was free of patrolling and food collection duties. It was strange and confusing, and required me to completely shift focus.

It is much harder to prioritize your daily tasks when you aren’t starving or freezing from the standard end-of-the world utility loss.

I contemplated the notion of putting together a to-do list for my time away from the office. I am an inveterate creator of lists. My lists have lists. I once listed myself on an informal list of those most likely to make a list, and then made a list of all the rich and famous people who made lists, and wondered if I’d ever be able to put myself on that list.

Legitimately on the list that is. I could easily cheat, and on write my name on there, but, it loses some appeal as a list if it’s not authentic.

While I was contemplating the listing of lists, I sorta dozed off. When I woke in surprise, I sheepishly decided to put “take a nap” on my to-do list.

The to-do list got very long, which is pretty typical for me. I just stared at it. The words looked something like hieroglyphics, and upon reviewing it, they conveyed no meaning to my brain.

Ironically, later, I realized one of the items on the list was “learn hieroglyphics.”

Admittedly, I didn’t get very far on that list. As soon as work started again, I pulled out the list. It no longer looked like the walls of an Egyptian tomb, but it led me to an attack of panic again. It was clear that I was in exactly the same predicament as I was following the failed apocalypse. I was without an excuse for falling painfully, woefully, behind.

Are you looking for a unique experience for your whole family? How about an Adventure kit?

If you’d like to get Flying Solo, (and just Flying Solo) on Sundays via e-mail, you can Subscribe to Flying Solo