My final thoughts before the robots take over. Or zombies. The Mayans weren’t specific.

In less than 24 hours the world is supposed to go to hell in a hand-basket. Think about it. These could be the last words I ever write. Whoa, right?

Or everything will be tickety-boo in the morning and you’ll wake up to read this and be like, “Dude, why was she up so late? Did she want a front-row seat to the fire and brimstone?” Simple answer: yes. I’ll only be able to write a best-selling book if I witness something spectacular. Or if I devise some poorly written S&M for bored housewives. Given my current mental state I will call it 50 Shades of Crazy: The Mom’s Guide to Fooling Regular People Into Thinking She is Well-Rested and Doesn’t Drink to Forget Tantrums.

So what does one do on her second-to-last day here on earth? I should probably have been stockpiling toilet paper and merlot in case of emergency, but I woke up late, walked to Starbucks with my daughter and then took advantage of my kids napping simultaneously (if that isn’t a sign of the apocalypse, I’m not sure what is) to dash out six kilometers. I did run yesterday and haven’t run two days in a row since half-marathon training a couple months ago. But I figured if this was going to be my last day on earth, I should do my favourite things. So I didn’t set an alarm, drank too much caffeine and took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather and headed out, where a friend spotted me waiting for a train and took the photo above. The only things I did not do: finally finish reading The Grapes of Wrath (I’ve been working on it since Grade 12) or clean my house (if I thought there was the slightest possibility even one of the Four Horsemen would admire my clean floors, I might have gone to the effort).

However should the world continue until Saturday, I suppose I should revel in the future and make lofty claims, such as “I will find time and energy to train for a full marathon.”

And now I sort of do hope that heaven rains fire shortly so I am not held accountable for my words. Yes, I will take my chances outrunning zombies over waking up at 5 a.m. on Saturdays for four-and-a-half hour training runs.

See you all on the other side of December 21! Or will I?