She’s adopted him officially as her pet too, and I can’t read Otis’s mind, but he seems pleased with this.
I spent the majority of today chilling out on the couch in the living room, on my stomach. Oddly enough, it actually felt better being on my stomach than any other position. I have come to the conclusion that I am suffering from karma over sharing the story of Patrick getting shot in the ass. He had to be on his stomach, and now I’ve put my own stomach time in. Patrick, if you’re out there listening, wherever you might be, I’m sorry dude. But even you gotta admit, getting your ass perforated the way you did is pretty funny in retrospect.
Sigh.
I miss my friends.
Sigh again.
If I can move around decently tomorrow, we’re going to get things ready for a return trip to the gas station the day after. I’m going to load all but one of the fuel barrels into a truck so we can restock everything. We’re gonna head down in two vehicles, secure the area, set up our pumping apparatus, which I need to make sure works tomorrow as well, and get every drop we can while we’re there to make the trip worth it. You know... I frigging forgot to check the diesel tank while we were there earlier. Doh. Oh well, can’t be perfect.
I’m gonna hit save here, head downstairs for a glass of milk, pop some ibuprofen and a couple melatonin, and hit the sack. I’m sort of hopeful right now I see Cassie in my dreams again. Maybe I’m finally reaching the point where I am not afraid to sleep?.
Or, I just really miss the woman I love most.
'Til we meet again Mr. Journal.
-Adrian
March 11 th
Sup dawg? Hope all is well with your Mr. Journal. Things are pretty good with me. We’ve had a highly eventful past couple days here, and I’m happy to say, we fought through the bullshit, and got what needed to be done, done. Where’s my cigar?
Our primary concern the past couple days has been preparing for a fuel run, and then doing that fuel run. It certainly illuminates how difficult life is now when it’s a two day process to get gasoline safely. Before the shit hit the fan we’d hop in a car and zip down to the closest station and with a swipe of the atm card, we’d have a full tank. Oh how I miss that. Not that rolling into town loaded for war doesn’t have its upsides. Occasionally I realize that I’m standing in my town wearing body armor and holding an assault rifle, shooting at zombies and I am sort of forced to smile out of amusement. Sad that I find that amusing now I guess.
Yesterday we gathered our resources, and finalized our plans. Now, getting the gas out of the underground storage tanks in an efficient manner was the make or break fact of this whole process. If it took us too long to get the fuel out, then we ran the risk of being overrun by the undead, or wasting excessive amounts of ammo defending ourselves. It’s this enormous ballet of resource management. More time means more danger, more danger means more bullets, etc etc.
I told my idea to Mike about getting the gas quickly and safely using a sump pump. Mike said that they had actually used an old sump pump themselves to get the gas out of the tanks in Westfield. He said they used two different pumps with success. One model was a standard plug into the wall model that they powered with a converter off one of their truck batteries. He said it worked awesome, but the risk of sparks creating an explosion had everyone shitting bricks the whole time. Eventually they located an older manual crank sump pump in a basement of an older multi family home. Same basic principle applies. You work the pump mechanism with one hose in the gasoline supply and the other in a storage receptacle, and as long as you’re well greased and don’t make any sparks, you simply crank out the gas you need, and then get the fuck out.
I knew I had seen one of the manual sump pumps in the basement of one of the houses in the vicinity, and it was our mission yesterday to
I spent the majority of today chilling out on the couch in the living room, on my stomach. Oddly enough, it actually felt better being on my stomach than any other position. I have come to the conclusion that I am suffering from karma over sharing the story of Patrick getting shot in the ass. He had to be on his stomach, and now I’ve put my own stomach time in. Patrick, if you’re out there listening, wherever you might be, I’m sorry dude. But even you gotta admit, getting your ass perforated the way you did is pretty funny in retrospect.
Sigh.
I miss my friends.
Sigh again.
If I can move around decently tomorrow, we’re going to get things ready for a return trip to the gas station the day after. I’m going to load all but one of the fuel barrels into a truck so we can restock everything. We’re gonna head down in two vehicles, secure the area, set up our pumping apparatus, which I need to make sure works tomorrow as well, and get every drop we can while we’re there to make the trip worth it. You know... I frigging forgot to check the diesel tank while we were there earlier. Doh. Oh well, can’t be perfect.
I’m gonna hit save here, head downstairs for a glass of milk, pop some ibuprofen and a couple melatonin, and hit the sack. I’m sort of hopeful right now I see Cassie in my dreams again. Maybe I’m finally reaching the point where I am not afraid to sleep?.
Or, I just really miss the woman I love most.
'Til we meet again Mr. Journal.
-Adrian
March 11 th
Sup dawg? Hope all is well with your Mr. Journal. Things are pretty good with me. We’ve had a highly eventful past couple days here, and I’m happy to say, we fought through the bullshit, and got what needed to be done, done. Where’s my cigar?
Our primary concern the past couple days has been preparing for a fuel run, and then doing that fuel run. It certainly illuminates how difficult life is now when it’s a two day process to get gasoline safely. Before the shit hit the fan we’d hop in a car and zip down to the closest station and with a swipe of the atm card, we’d have a full tank. Oh how I miss that. Not that rolling into town loaded for war doesn’t have its upsides. Occasionally I realize that I’m standing in my town wearing body armor and holding an assault rifle, shooting at zombies and I am sort of forced to smile out of amusement. Sad that I find that amusing now I guess.
Yesterday we gathered our resources, and finalized our plans. Now, getting the gas out of the underground storage tanks in an efficient manner was the make or break fact of this whole process. If it took us too long to get the fuel out, then we ran the risk of being overrun by the undead, or wasting excessive amounts of ammo defending ourselves. It’s this enormous ballet of resource management. More time means more danger, more danger means more bullets, etc etc.
I told my idea to Mike about getting the gas quickly and safely using a sump pump. Mike said that they had actually used an old sump pump themselves to get the gas out of the tanks in Westfield. He said they used two different pumps with success. One model was a standard plug into the wall model that they powered with a converter off one of their truck batteries. He said it worked awesome, but the risk of sparks creating an explosion had everyone shitting bricks the whole time. Eventually they located an older manual crank sump pump in a basement of an older multi family home. Same basic principle applies. You work the pump mechanism with one hose in the gasoline supply and the other in a storage receptacle, and as long as you’re well greased and don’t make any sparks, you simply crank out the gas you need, and then get the fuck out.
I knew I had seen one of the manual sump pumps in the basement of one of the houses in the vicinity, and it was our mission yesterday to
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