So I'm not a zombie and I don't fall down as much as I used to but you don't necessarily want to ride the elevator with me and anyway, maybe I am

Let me just start by saying that as soon as Nick reads this he's going to be all, "You so clearly ate too much sugar for breakfast and how come you never do that when I'm home?"

Either that or he'll just say, "The hell?"

Yah. OK. So you know that fun blue nail polish I put on last week?

So I took it off this morning and now I look like I have frostbite, except that my fingers haven't fallen off. You know what I can't bear think about? Those people who climb Everest and then their fingers and toes turn black from the cold and they have to have them amputated.

I suppose they're glad to be alive, and in that context what's a finger or toe here or there? But I am not that adventurous.

So anyway, maybe it's more like I'm a zombie, but only in my fingertips.

Nick is out of town so I couldn't ask him if I looked all zombified, and if he was scared. Because yes, he's a lot bigger than me, but if I were in fact a zombie, I could totally take him down.

It really just takes a small bite, and the bacteria starts working. Bam! You're a zombie!

Which means they have a lot in common with Komodo dragons, which I find fascinating. Not that they can bite you and turn you into another Komodo dragon, which would actually be pretty cool. But because of their serrated teeth, there's soooo much bacteria living in their mouths, and if they bite you and you don't bleed to death, you'll most likely die of infection.

So they get to eat you either way.

But back to the zombies.

Now, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be mistaken for one, but it is true that another sign of zombiness is the staggering around, and I am kind of clumsy. As I'm walking down the hall, I often wind up glancing off the side of cubicles. Subtly. Like unless you're walking with me, you wouldn't notice. It's usually more like just a little shoulder bump.

The other day at home I leaned over to pick something up and banged my head on the side of the wall.

Nick wouldn't have noticed except that I said, "OW!"

Which caused him to ask if I'd just hit my head. On the wall.

I blame this kind of thing on my astigmatism and poor depth perception. I don't think it's general lack of coordination, because I don't trip and fall all that often any more.

The thing is, my coloring is good and I'm not in any kind of obvious state of decay, and maybe most importantly I'm not trying to eat anyone's brain.

But listen to this: three of my colleagues got trapped in one of our elevators for 45 minutes. Which is only related because elevators are a bad place to be in case of zombie attack.

The idea of being stuck in the elevator freaks me the fuck out. It doesn't scare me as much as thinking about zombies, though. Seriously. That damn Dawn of the Dead movie, which I saw yeeeaaars ago, still makes me twitch. So combining the two would be just unimaginable.

Also, on the elevator thing: sometimes I stand just a little too close to another person in the elevator, just to see what they do. I don't do this if there are only two of us in there, because that would be creepy.

I do it like I'm totally oblivious, not like I'm trying to edge up to them. I'm pretty sure it works, because people always shift away, but nobody has ever given me a weird look.

Plus, nobody ever suspects me of anything. Which is why I should've been a spy. I suppose there's still time.

Anyway, I know zombies are all popular now, and this New York Times article posits that it's because "modern life is a lot like slaughtering zombies" - just one repetitive task after another, one repetitive day to the next. The zombies stagger around and attack, the humans kill them, over and over and over. It's all the same and the same and the same.

Which makes me all, oh, fucko. Maybe I am a zombie after all.

In any case, you probably don't want to get stuck in the elevator with me.

And, no, I don't know what's up with me today. I really don't.