No Zombies on Thursdays

I am a creature of habit.  I like routine and thrive on structure.  You’re probably nodding your head, like “Yeah, most people are like that, it’s normal…”  Let me elaborate.

I plan ahead.  Way too far, sometimes.  I get irrationally angry when I have to use whiteout on my wall calendar.  Everything on that calendar is written with an extra-fine-point black Sharpie and then encased in a color-coded box (yellow for sports, purple for medical appointments and reminders, green for school stuff, orange for travel…).  Those colors match the same events in my shared family Google calendars.  I have 13 different Google calendars, plus I import my husband’s.  They each have a color designation and a purpose of their own. 

It wasn’t always like this (though I always wanted it to be).  The “little years” were too wrapped up in survival for me to be this organized.  As the girls got older, however, it became not only easier but entirely necessary to run this house like a proper machine; ship-shape and on schedule.  We even had two days each year we dubbed “ship shape day”s, which were spent purging closets and rooms until there was “a place for everything, and everything [was] in its place.”

I walk the same route with the dog almost every day.  I shop at the same stores (I’m a “loyal” customer at some of them, just see here).  I clean my rooms in the same order, and I even vacuum the same pattern multiple days each week.  

Still sound normal? 🤷🏼‍♀️

If this sounds miserable I can assure you it isn’t.  Sure, there is some grumbling about picking up, but every member of this household values the organization that helps life feel solid.  Everyone knows what to expect, and there is comfort in that.  

Monday is mostly spent recovering from the weekend, and baking (when I can).  Tuesday is set aside for yardwork and housework projects, and paying the bills.  Sheets get changed every Wednesday.  The frog tank and dog also get cleaned and groomed on that day.  Housecleaning happens on Thursday.  And Grocery Day is on Friday.  

Meals follow a pattern as well, on a Friday-to-Friday schedule that coincides with grocery day.  Every Friday is homemade macaroni and cheese.  Every Saturday is pizza and ice cream night.  Sunday we eat leftovers since most of us are out of the house that night at youth group.  Monday is usually burgers, or breakfast for dinner, or pork chops…  Tuesday is Mexican food, and Wednesday is French or Asian.  Thursday is “leftovers day”, to clean out the fridge before the fresh groceries arrive.  

And with six active people in the house, by Thursday night, the cupboards are getting pretty bare, let me tell you…

The snacks never make it past Monday, and then the baked goods come into play.  Those are gone in 48 hours - tops.  The fruit runs out by about Wednesday each week.  In desperation the kids grumble about us being “an ingredients household” (as opposed to a pre-made food household) and turn to making themselves eggs or no-bake cookies, or whatever else they can until Friday.  (Don’t worry, nobody is starving here).

Thursday night I finalize the menu for the following week and get ready for grocery shopping.

On Friday I head out with my (printed, categorical by store and aisle) grocery list and set myself to the task of procuring enough food for the small army that is (apparently) my progeny.  The bags fill my van; hatch and middle seats.  It takes a frustratingly long time to carry in and put away. And then, when the kids crash through the door after the last school day of the week, they head straight for the kitchen.  It’s like a mini-Christmas every week to them.  They tear into it all, every week. 

My kids are all smart.  Every one of them is capable of applying this intelligence to their weekly snack rationing to make their supplies hold out until the following Thursday.  Most don’t.  

My third-born, a highly practical child, occasionally does.  She is probably the most likely one to survive a zombie apocalypse, too.  I say this because she has discussed it at length. 

For being this household’s biggest eater by a healthy margin (that rail of a kid can put away more calories in one day than I could in several, and it never shows) she is adamant that food shouldn’t actually be the primary concern, if the undead descend upon us.  Food is what everyone will run for, but you can’t fight off a zombie with a Twinkie, and once you’ve eaten it, it’s gone.

Hardware stores, she’ll tell you, are where it’s at.  While everyone else is flocking to the grocery stores, she will head to get tools.  These tools can be used to build and reinforce safe structures, as well as double as weapons against otherwise unarmed zombies.  Furthermore, they can be traded for food and medical supplies.  Processed food alone won’t last long, and tools can help grow more.  Any house should be fine if they have an appropriate amount of food and basic medical supplies on hand, as long as they have tools.  And some seeds, which can also be purchased at a lot of hardware stores, but the tools are key.

I presume she got this intelligence from playing Minecraft, but I’m not sure.

If you get her going on the topic you’ll find that she’s rather passionate about it.  On a random Thursday afternoon last summer, she gave me the full rundown of her Hardware store zombie apocalypse theory.  She went on and on about needing a solid protective structure, and how useful a pick axe, shovel, and garden hoe would be against a bunch of brainless undead corpses, and how they can also be used to grow a lasting supply of food from seed.  

The topic made her hungry, apparently, and she headed to the fridge for a(nother) snack.  But, being Thursday, she swung the door open to find it barren of all but some leftover spaghetti and assorted “ingredients.”  

She sighed heavily, and exclaimed,

“But if we do ever have a zombie apocalypse, I hope it doesn’t happen on a Thursday.”