After a glorious week in California, where we sat around and sweated in T-shirts and I truly worried about getting a sunburn, Colin and I are back in chilly DC. Our return trip felt much quicker than our trip going; it was painless but for a sudden case of motion sickness on the metro.
We read one of Colin’s new books, World War Z, the whole trip home. And now, for the second night in a row, we’ve been plagued by zombie creepies as soon as it gets dark.
It’s a fantastic book, though. Gripping. Set in the near future, it’s a collection of memories from the Zombie War that swept the globe. Colin suggested that the context could have been any catastrophe—aliens, widespread natural disasters, a regular plague—because the real strength of the book is how countries and individuals interact in the desperate situation. Cuba rises to power; North Korea goes underground; starving people take a cue from the Donner party. I highly recommend it.
It’s been a marvelously lazy existence since getting back; Colin’s forgotten how to do this and I have to remind him that it’s OK that our productivity is rather limited, because that’s what the holidays and not being a working stiff are all about.