Measures Learned

We’ve been in coro self-isolation for a week. Not really isolation, but coupling. (Yeah, it’s not as sexual as that sounds; we’ve been married over forty something years.) I’ve gone out for walks; my wife and I shopped together twice in that period (keeping six feet away from others, not touching our faces, wiping down the shopping cart handle, wearing gloves), replenishing products and adding new items as we map out a longer term strategy and sort what we have. Some small matters have been learned.

I struggle to write fiction at home. I’m married to my walking-coffee shop-writing process. Like an old married couple, I feel it when the other isn’t present. A vacuum ensues.

I need to bridge it, and I’m working on that. Interruptions are the issue (which I’ve always known): cats visiting, wanting attention (sure, just shut the door, right? Ha, ha!), and the spouse speaking to me to share news or ask questions. Besides that, I developed the WCW process, deliberately training myself to shift to the writing mode.

I’m muddling through, sorting energies and times, trying to make my writing side work. I’ve wondered, though, if the muses haven’t also gone into self-isolation.

Beyond the writing issues, things are working out well. Our place isn’t gigantic, but it’s big enough for a couple and four cats (three residents and a perpetual visitor) that we’re not always on top of one another. We also have the yard, and can escape to it.

In many ways, we’re enjoying ourselves. The coro has united us in focus and intentions, providing structure. We’re working on a jigsaw puzzle together (it’s a good one) and have fun with that. We were doing that before coro struck, though.

I reflect on how our isolation is different from other times. I’ve gone through typhoons, where we stocked up but had a general idea that it would last only a week. Tornadoes were shorter and much more intense. We prepared for earthquakes (we have a disaster kit for fleeing) and wildfires (have N95 masks on hand) (and wish we could donate them to the med professionals because of the mask shortage, but they’ve been in our home for at least a year). We went through several years of drought here where we cut water use, and stayed inside (or went out for limited periods, wearing a mask) because of wild fire smoke. We lived through water rationing on Okinawa, and gasoline rationing in America.

This period, in fact, reminds me of our early married years. I was a young, low-ranked enlisted person. With little money, we were on a strict budget. We never ate out and saved money for treats (HoHo’s could be purchased for one hundred pennies in those days). We didn’t have a television (or a telephone) in the first few months. VCRs (and DVDs, etc) and the net, with its streaming options, didn’t exist. It was just us (with one cat) in the house, entertaining one another with card games, eating simple, inexpensive meals, and reading books.

So, this situation is somewhat better, if you discount the threat of getting sick and dying. We have the net. We have a phone, and several televisions (yeah, way too many, but when you buy one, getting rid of the previous is difficult; I’ve given away many working televisions…but anyway), and streaming options.

And we have money! And an extra freezer! And rooms! And toilet paper! And coffee! (And some wine, beer, brandy, and a few other things.)

We’re damned fortunate to have these things. (Yeah, nice not being poor and having a decent cash cushion.) (Sorry, not gloating just stating facts.) We have the net to entertain us (like reading others’ posts) (and writing my own) and a multitude of news sources (and entertaining animal videos). I love the humor I can find on FB and in posts (like MyDangBlog and “Signs of the Apocalypse”.) People’s comments on my posts, especially about Floofinition and floof rock, divert and amuse me. I love that they address these matters with the same tongue-in-gravity that I apply to them, building on the ideas and adding new material.

Although, alas, there’s not much good stuff to stream right now. Going from source to source last night (Prime, with access to HBO, Showtime, STARZ, etc), Freeform, Hulu, Acorn, and Netflix), it struck me that most streaming services are just like the old cable system that we fled. Lots of old reruns and syndicated old television shows on, and not much new (that we we enjoy) (yeah, we’re picky).

We also have a phone, and email. Jokes fly on email. So does good info. We hear from our extroverted friends and relatives, trapped in their homes, looking for an outlet. My wife handles those calls, except for my family.

Not bad, so far. Yeah, it’s early days, innit it? Hunker down, children. Fingers crossed.

Cheers

 

 

Floof Leppard

Floof Leppard (floofinition) – Floofish rock band who struck commercial success with a string of hits in the 1980s and 90s.

In use: “The song “Pour Some Kibble for Me” struck number two on the Floofboard Hot 100 for Floof Leppard in 1987.”

Weird WordPress Issues

A quick rant, if you please. Just some first world blues.

Don’t know if others are experiencing WP issues. Here are mine.

  1. Couldn’t see what anyone was viewing, liking, commenting on, etc, from my homepage. Had to go to stats for that.
  2. Couldn’t like others’ posts. I confirmed that I was logged on.
  3. I could post without issue. However, my categories button was buggy, refusing to respond unless I clicked on the gear icon first.
  4. Then discovered I wasn’t logged in. Surprise! I’d been logged in; I’d been posting. Just couldn’t do the other things. Then, once I logged in again, all resolved.

So, if you notice that I haven’t visited your posts, I probably have, but I couldn’t comment, etc. Nothing personal; just WordPress.

The Table Dream

A scene bursts into my consciousness. Noisy and busy, I’m outdoors. People doing stuff surround me. I don’t know what they’re doing.

I’m presented with a location stocked with materials. “There are yours. Go to work.” Doing what? I wonder but respond with positive energy, “Okay.”

There’s a hammer, nails, wood, measuring tape, etc., essentially common hand tools associated with carpentry. As people bustle around me in a sunny area (I don’t see much past my immediate work space), I ponder what I’m supposed to do. Build something. Well, what?

A picnic table is in front of me. I presume that I’m supposed to use it as work table. After taking stock of the wood – it’s all sanded, finished wood (I don’t know what kind) – I start working, just following instinct. I’m enjoying it. I’m surprised to discover that I’m wearing a tool belt (which makes me laugh; me, in a tool belt?).

My construction progresses. People come by and compliment me. I’m pleased. Then, I realize, OMG, I’m building the picnic table. Wasn’t there a picnic table there before? I’m unsure. I thought there was, but now, I’m building one, and I don’t see another. Did someone take the original one? I didn’t notice that.

Being puzzled slows me down, makes me pause and reconsider what I’m doing for a bit. I look around for clues, but everyone else is busy. No one is showing me interest. Alright, just continue, what the hell, right?

So I do. I get deeper into the work. It progresses quickly. I have more wood than I realized, and work faster, more confidently. As I near completion, I realize, why I’ve built a room.

Astonishment striking me, I walk around to consider my work. Then I discover I haven’t built just a room, but a small house. How the hell did I do that? When did I do that?

As I contemplate the results, a man comes by. “Good job,” he tells me. “Keep going. Finish it.”

Keep going? Finish it? I have no idea what I’m doing.

After processing that, I notice missing details. I have floors but no ceilings. It’s incomplete. I decide to go back to work, thinking, what the hell, just follow the flow and see what turns out.

The dream ends.

So It Begins…Puzzle #7

This one looks colorful, challenging, and fun! Hope there aren’t any missing pieces. We buy used puzzles, so it’s a risk. One available for sale at the Goodwill the other day had a note attached, “Missing a piece.” Noble of your to note that problem, but no thanks. That’d be the piece that finally drives me completely insane.

 

Patient 46

He cited Elon Musk. “Elon Musk thinks the threat from the coronavirus is overblown. He’s a smart guy, and I agree with him.” Nodding, his friends came in closer to hear him. “Musk said that you’re more likely to be killed in a car accident going home from work than from the corollavirus.”

He purposefully misspoke, mocking the term, making his friends snort and scoff. “Just like President Trump said, this is a hoax. Yeah, sure, there’s a disease out there, but it’s not that big a deal. It’s not even as bad as the swine flu. We survived it, and we’ll survive this, too.”

“Fuckin’ a,” “Damn straight,” and “Preach it brother,” friends replied as others nodded agreement and encouragement.

Patient 46 continued, “The media is exploiting the news and the gullible sheeple because they don’t like Trump. They want this virus to succeed. They want people to die. It’s just like Trish Regan said, it’s an impeachment scam. They couldn’t legally impeach Trump, so now they’re trying to do this. You know she was right, because they shut her up straightaway, took her right off the air. Why else would they do that, if she wasn’t right?”

The rest agreed. A newcomer arrived. Greetings were bellowed.

Patient 46 turned away. It felt hot as hell in the bar. Sweat peppered his forehead. He took another long swallow of cold Bud to drown his fever. Nausea swarmed him. He mopped his face with a sleeve and then wiped his palm across his face. “Damn, it’s hot in this place,” he said loudly, but the televisions and jukebox drowned his words.

A grinning friend leaned in close. “Hey, man, don’t you know that you’re not supposed to be touching your face?”

The two laughed and slapped their palms together in a high-five salute. Each then made a show of touching their faces. Then, shrieking with greater laughter, his friend said, “No one said that I can’t touch your face.”

“Right on, scratch my nose for me,” Patient 46 said. His friend obliged as the two snorted and giggled.

It was the last thing that Patient 46 remembered before he awoke alone in the hospital. Lit machines were beeping, sighing, and humming. Tubes snaked to and from his body.

Such bullshit, he thought, such bullshit, what an over-reaction. Closing his eyes, he fought to breathe. Someone poisoned him, he thought. Trying to shut him up and make an example out of him. Probably the CIA or FBI. They were arms of the shadow government that Obama and Killary were running. Everyone knew it.

He’d show them. He would survive this fucking assassination attempt, and then share his story as a precautionary tale about the measures the libtards would take to shut people like him up.

Patient 46 died a few days later. His story remained untold. His services were sparsely attended.

Everyone was too sick to attend, but all agreed, it was a damn shame that such a smart guy, a real man like him, should die in a hospital bed like that.

Yes, a damn shame.

Puzzle #6 Finished!

We finished puzzle number 6 about twenty-four hours after we began it…almost.

Six pieces are missing.

Six!

It’s an outrage, I tell youse, an outrage.

My wife suggested that we need to pace ourselves. We only have two jigsaw puzzles left.

Puzzle #6 Is Begun

“This will be an easy one,” my wife assures me. On our personal JS (Jigsaw Scale), she thought that “Casablanca” (our last puzzle) was a nine on the JS. (I thought it was a seven, as I’ve seen puzzles with thousands and thousands of pieces, but never mind.) She believes “Cats in the Bag” is a four. We’ll see.

“Cats in the Bag” was loaned to us by a friend. The pieces are large, and have quirky shapes. There aren’t many small pieces. Progress has been swift, so far. Our local cats are showing less interest in this puzzle. Each visited it, but have not stayed.

I think they believe the puzzle is floofcist, continuing a stereotype that cats like bags. Their opinion would hold more water if they weren’t so interested in the bag that the puzzle was in.

 

 

 

 

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