Best of Times, Worst of Times
22/05/20 07:07
I think I'm coming around a little bit more day by day. I haven't been quite myself these last couple of days. I've been feeling more than my share of malaise and I've not been interested in doing much of anything around the house. Its amazing how quickly things start to unravel when you stop doing what you typically do day in and day out.
Dishes start to pile up; the refrigerator looks more sparsely stocked with each passing day; the bed goes unmade and dirty clothes lay scattered here and there throughout the house; trash runs stop altogether; mail goes unchecked; plants go unwatered; books go unread; bird feeders go empty; and the only reason I continue to drink coffee is to prevent waking up in the middle of the night with a cranking headache. I think I'm coming down with something.
But I had a good bike ride yesterday which was reassuring. I never know how well or how poorly I'm doing sometimes until I've had my bike ride. If I fail to complete my usual route then I know my foot dragging is real. I know my energy levels aren't what they can or should be. I know that I'm sicker or maybe better than I think I am. If I'm riding like the wind and pushing myself with a perverse pleasure then it's all good. That's where I think I am today. It's a good place so I'm happy to be here. Happy to be back.
Life seems to be getting back to normal here along the seacoast. The virus is still around but infection rates and hospitalization rates are down and seemingly manageable. The curve has been flattened. Mission accomplished. We were out about last night to do a little food shopping and to pick up a to-go pizza and salads from a spot we frequent in Hampton. It was a refreshingly cool early evening and most restaurants had modest to robust crowds seated at picnic tables set up beneath canopies so that restaurants could more easily comply with new regulations designed to deal with social distancing rules.
Aside from the face masks worn by the restaurant personnel, and of course the outside seating, it looked like any other early summer evening here in New England. These are hard times for restaurants since the usual rules don't apply during this pandemic. You just can't have people in close proximity where community spread gives free and easy passage to this virulent strain of the coronavirus. Now that we know how it spreads, who it threatens and who it doesn't threaten, we're all trying to work around it in our own way. As for the restaurants, I just don't know how many of then will be left standing at the end of the day.
We're doing our part to support them by ordering out as often as budgets and appetites permit. It certainly helps that we prefer to order out. More to the point perhaps is the fact that neither of us likes spending much time in the kitchen preparing this or that dish for you name the meal. Nancy has a few signature dishes that she likes to prepare but if they're prepared with any frequency whatsoever they become less signature and more standard. Standard is boring. Signature is sexy. I'm more of a "let's see what we have in the fridge and I'll see if I can't put a few things together to come up with something" kind of cook.
And then there are days when for the life of us we can't decide on what we want to order regardless of what offerings we have in front of us. You would think that with all the available restaurants, diner, and take-out windows in and around the surrounding towns that we might be able to get excited about one dish or another. Since eating nothing for dinner is seldom ever a reasonable option we might settle for a bowl of cereal or a couple pieces of toast. There is such a thing as having too many choices! And to think that there are people out there who have no choices and who go to bed hungry.
Nancy is between (jigsaw) puzzles now and she's annoying me a bit by asking what I think of this and that puzzle pattern as she flips through the online pages of the local puzzle store hoping to find a puzzle and a pattern to her liking. What the hell do I know about puzzles much less the patterns that make them more or less interesting? And then there are the puzzles that she starts out liking only to find them to be a grind after a while. Solving the puzzle then becomes secondary to finishing the puzzle for the sake of finishing the puzzle.
I can tell you that there is nothing more satisfying to Nancy than to find a puzzle that just works. Not all puzzles are created equal as they say. Even the puzzles that she thinks are going to go well sometimes don't. It's all about the picture or the pattern. At least that is what you tell yourself when you're contemplating which puzzle you might like to do next. It has to come together with just enough of a fuss to make it interesting but never frustrating. And finally, when she's found just the right piece you can hear pitched voice her three rooms away.
"Found a piece!", she declares loudly to anyone who may or may not be listening. It no doubt pleases the puzzle gods. It's definitely one of those it's not the destination but rather it's the journey kind of deals. Did I tell you that she makes me take a picture of her holding the puzzle once all is said and done? What we never know is how well or how poorly the puzzle is going to hold up when she tries to pick it up off the table. We have more than our share of photos of Nancy holding up a puzzle which has lost several of its pieces due to a fragility that never revealed itself during construction.
I don't know how but the Home Depot fucked up our order for our new refrigerator. We have a new delivery date now of June 2nd. Nancy knew right off that something wasn't right when she checked her credit card the day after we called in the purchase and she saw the usual charges but no charge for our purchase. Add to that the fact that we had received nothing via e-mail as promised and it was clear that something was amiss. We never did find out what happened despite asking that they call us back with an explanation. That's a problem. It has eroded or chipped away at what little goodwill I had for the handyman's box store.
We're just getting started on a three day holiday weekend and so far so good. The weather looks to be decent over the coming days and I'm hoping to get in some yard work and some other things around the house that have gone undone for a variety of reasons. It was an unusually warm day yesterday and while not oppressive it nonetheless had the effect of slowing us down while trying to escape and adjust to the warmer temperatures. Whatever plans we had went spiraling into the proverbial cocked hat of daily life and that was that.
For the first time maybe ever Nancy started her plants indoors this year. She has an assorted number of plants, all flowering plants I might add, starting to show their tender shoots coming up and out of the containers she fashioned out of newspapers, egg cartons, etc.. I think she's rather proud of what she's accomplished although she mentioned this very morning that she wishes that she had started sooner. I didn't say it but there is always next year. You take what you learn and you build on it time and time again. Such is the human experience. Well, maybe our experience anyway.
One thing I've never liked about these long weekends is that they create a dead spot in the 24/7 news cycle. Being the news and political junky that I am I find myself looking for razor blades lying around the house with which I might slit my fucking wrists. Anything to create a narrative that I can use to amuse myself until they stop recycling old news. I suppose I could read a book or tap into my Twitter news feed to get a fix. My veins are itching just thinking about it.
And then there is Joe Biden. He is likely to say something stupid or just completely asinine over the holiday weekend so that should go viral and that will give us all something to tweet about. Round and round and round we go. I've never liked the people he surrounds himself with and you know what they say: You are known by the company you keep. And when you consider that Joe is not the Joe of old then you can only look at his henchmen as puppeteers and not personal assistants. Were he to become president, god forbid, his actions and his deeds would not be his own but rather those of his men and women behind the curtain. That should scare the bloody hell out of every red blooded American.
Dishes start to pile up; the refrigerator looks more sparsely stocked with each passing day; the bed goes unmade and dirty clothes lay scattered here and there throughout the house; trash runs stop altogether; mail goes unchecked; plants go unwatered; books go unread; bird feeders go empty; and the only reason I continue to drink coffee is to prevent waking up in the middle of the night with a cranking headache. I think I'm coming down with something.
But I had a good bike ride yesterday which was reassuring. I never know how well or how poorly I'm doing sometimes until I've had my bike ride. If I fail to complete my usual route then I know my foot dragging is real. I know my energy levels aren't what they can or should be. I know that I'm sicker or maybe better than I think I am. If I'm riding like the wind and pushing myself with a perverse pleasure then it's all good. That's where I think I am today. It's a good place so I'm happy to be here. Happy to be back.
Life seems to be getting back to normal here along the seacoast. The virus is still around but infection rates and hospitalization rates are down and seemingly manageable. The curve has been flattened. Mission accomplished. We were out about last night to do a little food shopping and to pick up a to-go pizza and salads from a spot we frequent in Hampton. It was a refreshingly cool early evening and most restaurants had modest to robust crowds seated at picnic tables set up beneath canopies so that restaurants could more easily comply with new regulations designed to deal with social distancing rules.
Aside from the face masks worn by the restaurant personnel, and of course the outside seating, it looked like any other early summer evening here in New England. These are hard times for restaurants since the usual rules don't apply during this pandemic. You just can't have people in close proximity where community spread gives free and easy passage to this virulent strain of the coronavirus. Now that we know how it spreads, who it threatens and who it doesn't threaten, we're all trying to work around it in our own way. As for the restaurants, I just don't know how many of then will be left standing at the end of the day.
We're doing our part to support them by ordering out as often as budgets and appetites permit. It certainly helps that we prefer to order out. More to the point perhaps is the fact that neither of us likes spending much time in the kitchen preparing this or that dish for you name the meal. Nancy has a few signature dishes that she likes to prepare but if they're prepared with any frequency whatsoever they become less signature and more standard. Standard is boring. Signature is sexy. I'm more of a "let's see what we have in the fridge and I'll see if I can't put a few things together to come up with something" kind of cook.
And then there are days when for the life of us we can't decide on what we want to order regardless of what offerings we have in front of us. You would think that with all the available restaurants, diner, and take-out windows in and around the surrounding towns that we might be able to get excited about one dish or another. Since eating nothing for dinner is seldom ever a reasonable option we might settle for a bowl of cereal or a couple pieces of toast. There is such a thing as having too many choices! And to think that there are people out there who have no choices and who go to bed hungry.
Nancy is between (jigsaw) puzzles now and she's annoying me a bit by asking what I think of this and that puzzle pattern as she flips through the online pages of the local puzzle store hoping to find a puzzle and a pattern to her liking. What the hell do I know about puzzles much less the patterns that make them more or less interesting? And then there are the puzzles that she starts out liking only to find them to be a grind after a while. Solving the puzzle then becomes secondary to finishing the puzzle for the sake of finishing the puzzle.
I can tell you that there is nothing more satisfying to Nancy than to find a puzzle that just works. Not all puzzles are created equal as they say. Even the puzzles that she thinks are going to go well sometimes don't. It's all about the picture or the pattern. At least that is what you tell yourself when you're contemplating which puzzle you might like to do next. It has to come together with just enough of a fuss to make it interesting but never frustrating. And finally, when she's found just the right piece you can hear pitched voice her three rooms away.
"Found a piece!", she declares loudly to anyone who may or may not be listening. It no doubt pleases the puzzle gods. It's definitely one of those it's not the destination but rather it's the journey kind of deals. Did I tell you that she makes me take a picture of her holding the puzzle once all is said and done? What we never know is how well or how poorly the puzzle is going to hold up when she tries to pick it up off the table. We have more than our share of photos of Nancy holding up a puzzle which has lost several of its pieces due to a fragility that never revealed itself during construction.
I don't know how but the Home Depot fucked up our order for our new refrigerator. We have a new delivery date now of June 2nd. Nancy knew right off that something wasn't right when she checked her credit card the day after we called in the purchase and she saw the usual charges but no charge for our purchase. Add to that the fact that we had received nothing via e-mail as promised and it was clear that something was amiss. We never did find out what happened despite asking that they call us back with an explanation. That's a problem. It has eroded or chipped away at what little goodwill I had for the handyman's box store.
We're just getting started on a three day holiday weekend and so far so good. The weather looks to be decent over the coming days and I'm hoping to get in some yard work and some other things around the house that have gone undone for a variety of reasons. It was an unusually warm day yesterday and while not oppressive it nonetheless had the effect of slowing us down while trying to escape and adjust to the warmer temperatures. Whatever plans we had went spiraling into the proverbial cocked hat of daily life and that was that.
For the first time maybe ever Nancy started her plants indoors this year. She has an assorted number of plants, all flowering plants I might add, starting to show their tender shoots coming up and out of the containers she fashioned out of newspapers, egg cartons, etc.. I think she's rather proud of what she's accomplished although she mentioned this very morning that she wishes that she had started sooner. I didn't say it but there is always next year. You take what you learn and you build on it time and time again. Such is the human experience. Well, maybe our experience anyway.
One thing I've never liked about these long weekends is that they create a dead spot in the 24/7 news cycle. Being the news and political junky that I am I find myself looking for razor blades lying around the house with which I might slit my fucking wrists. Anything to create a narrative that I can use to amuse myself until they stop recycling old news. I suppose I could read a book or tap into my Twitter news feed to get a fix. My veins are itching just thinking about it.
And then there is Joe Biden. He is likely to say something stupid or just completely asinine over the holiday weekend so that should go viral and that will give us all something to tweet about. Round and round and round we go. I've never liked the people he surrounds himself with and you know what they say: You are known by the company you keep. And when you consider that Joe is not the Joe of old then you can only look at his henchmen as puppeteers and not personal assistants. Were he to become president, god forbid, his actions and his deeds would not be his own but rather those of his men and women behind the curtain. That should scare the bloody hell out of every red blooded American.