4:20am. Ya know, I kinda like the uncertainty that is my current sleep cycle which coincides with my being compelled to write, what shall I call it? “Days of my Life” essays? Okay we’ll go with.that for now. Whatever the name, it sure beats the growing doldrums of staying home, being unable to drive about hither and yon to shop, dine, visit friends, attend live theatre, explore the outer world – all in person to possibly contract the dreaded novel virus and die a rotten and lonely death. Maybe its just me, but I’m okay with that, for now. It’s possible I will tire of the whole thing or be unable to find a suitable movie from the myriad of mind-number-tainment services to which I subscribe.
By the way, the lentil soup was delicious. The soup I made yesterday in the Instant Pot? That one. Anyway, my friend Lynn came over. We sat outside on the back patio, the two of us, the prescribed six feet apart at a table which normally affords six or eight if you wanna squish. We dined on soup and sourdough. She had a glass of boxed white wine, and I a glass of water. As I write this i am astounded at how prison-like it seems I just entertained my guest! It was as if a government drone were hovering above to make sure we were abiding the law of social distancing. And we were…like Pavlov’s pups. Maybe I’ve watched too much sci-fi or read too many articles on robotics lately but I’m also not surprised of late how the two coincide and how we are learning new behaviors, some of which are really fucked up.
Actually there were three of us, Lynn, me and the tiny robin’s egg which currently rests in a sock-nest in my cleavage.Yes, in the midst of the plague I am still incubating the egg. Personally I would’ve preferred a goose egg, since I adore them (and apparently it is reciprocal) but this particular egg is the one I mentioned in a previous bit – grandson has not happened upon another, though he looks daily on our walks. I’m actually glad he didn’t find a lizard or snake or more snails (gag) but then I wouldn’t have carried them around or eaten soup as they rested between my breasts. Shiver.
Anyway I showed the egg to Lynn as a sort of show and tell and please lets not spoil our meal by talking about politicians, the state of social security. healthcare, poverty, homelessness, pollution, etc., cause its too infuriating and we might get up to run screaming down the street and our soup will get cold. So I showed and we ate and we tried to talk about travel to Spain and Portugal, but the subject of travel led us back to lockdown plus the subjects we were trying to avoid and we gave into it all and spent a bit grousing and grumbling. I then made the wise choice of our having dessert and tea, which we ate, with mini-gusto, chatted some more, then she left before we could get depressed again. All in all it was a sort of success in that we were able to see each other face to face rather than on zoom. I’m waiting for the day we are once again able to dine out, that is if any restaurants or I for that matter, survive this.
Am I morbid? I don’t think so. Survival is on everyone’s (except those in denial) minds these days; Yeah, yeah, we are worried about infecting our infirm neighbors and grandparents, a little, but mostly I think we are afraid of getting the virus ourselves only to be buried in a mass grave on an island off Manhattan with nary a hanky carrying mourner in sight. Am I pessimistic? A little.
Look. face it. We never, at least I never, thought we’d have a dick-wad like trump as President. that makes both Nixon and the two Bushes seem like thoughtful angels of diplomacy and peace. The idea of a pandemic getting ignored, used as a campaigning tool, with the white house (should we still call it “white” if it is soiled by the shit-head in chief?) hoarding medical equipment except to red states that kiss his fat ass, and touting medicine that doesn’t work boggles my mind and millions like me.
What am I going to do about it all? Well, I’m going to continue to have a crazy ass sleep pattern, waking in the night to spout off to only goddess knows who, about whatever my addled mind decides. That is what my current life dictates, so I’m going with it.
Tune in.
Janet Bernson 