With the girlfriend out of town for the weekend, I’ve got more free time than usual. Sure I could be writing or running or cleaning the hall closet. The manuscript isn’t going to finish itself, Elizabeth. Instead, I’ve watched more episodes of The Walking Dead than I’d like to admit.

I don’t watch horror movies or anything that resembles a horror movie – even 127 Hours had too much gore for me – but I do have a soft spot for the Apocalypse. How might people react? Who survives and how? What will go wrong? What can’t be planned for? Where do you poop? Do you still brush your teeth twice a day? It’s an interesting thought experiment and The Walking Dead fulfills most of my fun Apocalypse categories. Plus, the zombies are dumb and slow so that’s less scary.

After an hour or two or six, I’m a little disappointed with women of The Walking Dead. These women – who have survived the end of times – do all the laundry and mending and cooking and cleaning. Women’s work. Maybe things would shake out like that. Fine, someone has to do it. I get stuck, however, on the way they defer to the men:

“Do you agree, Lori?”

“If you think it’s best, Rick”

Come on, girl! Speak the fuck up. These are the end of days! You’re fighting for survival, for the sake of humanity. If you don’t tell him he’s being an ignorant asshole now, when will you? Grow a pair, for fuck’s sake.

Yep, that’s it, that’s the line. I’ve watched too much. Sorry, folks.