Thursday’s Bumper Sticker
Routines
The keys go in this drawer so that they could always be found
(alongside his Fitbit, wallet, and pens),
the shopping bags were stored in these cubbies so all knew where they were
(it was automatic to reach for them when walking out the door),
the sunglasses and reading glasses were set where they were always expected to be
(so that exasperating searches could be avoided),
and the refrigerator and pantry were kept ordered, to minimize searching,
processes meant to reduce the chances of forgetting and losing anything.
It mostly worked.
Puzzle #5 Is Finished
We finished puzzle number five, the Casablanca movie poster (and also known as Schrödinger’s puzzle) this evening. We’d started it back around Feb. 11. Fifteen hundred pieces, it took us some time, but we’re pleased.
We thought two pieces were missing, and it bugged us. We’d bought the puzzle at the Goodwill; plots about hunting down the previous owners festered in me. Once we finished, though, we got down on our hands and knees to confirm pieces weren’t on the floor. We have an oriental rug under the dining room table where we worked on the puzzle. This Ravensburger puzzle’s pieces have a blue backside. And, yeah, the pieces were there.
Casablanca is considered a classic American film. One of the stars is Humphrey Bogart. He happens to star in the movie that’s definitely in my top ten list, African Queen, with Katherine Hepburn. Directed by John Huston, it’s based on a terrific E.M. Forester novel of the same name. I always worry that they’re going to remake African Queen, because a remake (or a reboot) will soil my memory. That’s petty and selfish, of course, but it’s my nature.
On to puzzle number six. Don’t know if we’ll devote as much time to it. Longer days of sunshine are arriving. Travel plans are in the air. So is yard work, and hanging around outside, which isn’t as fun in the cold weather. We’re warm weather people at heart.
I’ll let you know when we begin.
Heard at the Door
A man was standing with two standard gray and white poodles. One was a head taller than the other.
A woman walking past said to the man, “Are your dogs related?”
He replied, “No, I adopted them.”
As both laughed, he apologized, explaining, “I’m sorry, but I just saw that on Facebook, and an urge to say it just seized me.”
The Flirting
He approached the common table. Two young women were at one end. As they looked at him, he asked, “Do you mind if I occupy the other end?”
“No,” one said. Gesturing to a chair that was pulled out, she said, “Not at all. We already pulled out a chair for you.”
The other woman said, “We were just getting ready to go, anyway.”
Nodding as he began unpacking his gear, he said, “So you saw me coming, pulled out a chair, and prepared to go?”
Their laughter made him smile.
Is It…?
He was coughing, a dry cough from the bottom of his throat’s well.
Is it the coronavirus, or just the flu?
His nose was running (it hadn’t been this morning).
Is it an allergy (spring is in the air), or just a cold?
He was embarrassed because he couldn’t stop coughing (though he drank lots of water and sucked on a cough drop), thinking that the others were eyeing him (and several people had left).
Is it because of him, or is all of this just in his mind?
Variation
They’d been doing together since they were wed forty-two years ago. “Everything that we can do together, I mean, of course.” She felt some things weren’t possible, “But we tried to do everything together. We were never apart from one another for more than a day or two, maybe three, tops.” She’d been a nurse, but was now retired; he’d been, and was, a doctor.
Travel was required for her to visit her father. “Dad’s really well for ninety-three. It’s easy to forget he’s ninety-three because he looks so good and does so well. But he is ninety-three, so I worry about him. Especially since he’s down there and I’m up here. He’s a retired engineer, and very particular about his habits. Everything must be done certain ways. He eats the same foods for the same meals at the same times every day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There’s no variation.”
But this was about her husband. “He didn’t want to go with me to Southern California. Dad always watches Fox News. He’s completely apolitical, he’s not a Trump supporter, doesn’t have a MAGA hat, or anything like that, but he watches Fox News all day long. Henry just didn’t want to go, and cited that as part of the reason. So I flew down there alone.
“I’d been down there for a week when I received a phone call from Henry. He was frantic.”
“I’m out of clean underwear,” he said.
“Well, wash some.”
“I would, but I don’t know where the detergent goes.”
“It goes in the drawer.”
“I can’t find the drawer.”
“When I thought about it, I realized that it was the longest that we’d ever been apart.”
When she returned, she discovered his clothes in the washer. They were moldy, wrinkled and almost dry. She thinks that Henry just tossed the soap on top of the clothes, wasn’t satisfied with the process, and just quit.
They haven’t spoken about it, yet, but he does have some new underwear.
Always That Way
When he came in, none noticed him. He drifted from table to table, touching others’ food and drinks with impunity, giving them little “Boops” on their noses like he was playing with children. He hung around awhile as others came and went, not doing anything but loitering, and not taking up much space.
They didn’t know him then but they soon learned who he was. It was always that way with a virus.
Unspoken
She dissuades me from speaking in a thousand ways
and then asks me why I have not much to say.
Schrödinger’s Puzzle
Puzzle number five (the Casablanca movie poster) has become Schrödinger’s puzzle for me. With such limited colors (mostly sepia, brown, lighter brown, darker brown, tan, and beige) and ill-defined shapes, it’s a plodding process of trying pieces. Hence, Schrödinger’s puzzle: will this piece fit? You don’t know until it try, it might or might not, hence it has two states at once.
You could argue that every puzzle is like this; I disagree. This one has a special frustration to it. We almost have half done. We’ve been working on it for twelve days. The others were done by now (or some it seems). This one is so challenging that getting two pieces in feels like a triumph, so we walk away, savoring the victory, knowing more remains.
Will it ever be finished? Ask Schrödinger.
Michael Seidel, writer 