I'm not going to start with preposterous and disastrous and tragic news yet. We've all heard most of it and it can be left for later in the post as a reminder of what happened today.
At Casa de Eva and Environs:
I'm just now starting to know people with the virus. A friend in another State went to the ER where she was told she very likely has it but is not ill enough to get tested. She was traveling a couple weeks ago and has been sick for 9 days now with all the right symptoms. She is really sick, but not sick enough. I think she was sent home to recuperate. Or not. I sincerely hope she comes out okay, she's an amazing person, young, talented, and well, she's my friend.
A co-worker's mother was tested, without any particular reason given (the source may not be entirely accurate here), but she sent pics of the test kits to my co-worker. I haven't heard news of the outcome, but if they used a test on a 70 year old woman in Las Vegas there's a damned good reason for it.
A neighbor friend posted on FB that someone was selling toilet paper out of their car today a few blocks from our houses. Apparently, they had customers. Toilet paper is really a thing. While I have backstock because I always do, I'm starting to wonder if I even have enough although I almost certainly do and when I don't, well then is the time to worry about it.
Weird things are getting to me. Today I had an internal dialogue about running out of dental floss of all things. I have plenty, and haven't had to buy any in over a year because I always have two of everything. Now though...
I'm also having a bizarre relationship with the number of eggs I have on hand. I have three and half dozen eggs and because now I'm hoarding them for special purposes have stopped eating them for breakfast except on weekends. I even warned my roommate about eating eats for breakfast once a week instead of more often. They're my eggs after all, I get to say when and how they're used. WTF is my functional problem?
Well, honestly part of it is that my roommate is a young millenial and he's taking this so seriously it's almost a Howard Hughes level of paranoia, is 27, very healthy, a vegetarian (whatever that has to do with it) and he has not been to anywhere except short walks with the dog for over two weeks.
I am the one who braved the grocery store and pharmacy last week, while he just sat here in mute admonishment. I could see it in his eyes, "you go anywhere, lady, and you're getting sprayed with Lysol, wrapped in Saran Wrap and I'm gonna wear tissue boxes on my feet" is what his eyes said. So I went anyway, and now he has the nice treats I make because stress baking is my thing, and he gladly eats the vegetarian options I make too much of. But he's not going to go out and replace those eggs. No sirree Bob.
A few have commented that well, it's great someone is there in case you get sick or need help. I'm like "no if I get sick I'm going to die in my bedroom gurgling on my own lung butter or of starvation because this millennial won't come near me".
Anyway, he's another human in the house and that's good. Maybe he'll call the coroner if I start to smell too bad. I should give him the number of a couple of morticians I know.
Yes, I am showering every day. Today I almost just stayed in my PJs and then decided I have to stick to routine or everything's going to fall apart. However, because the day comes soon when PJs are my fashion du jour, I think about ordering something lovely from Amazon along with a cushy new bathrobe. Because you know, you want to present your best self when out walking the dog. Plus, my hair is growing too long, my dark roots are showing and damn it maybe a fashionable sleep ensemble will take the eye away from this hair.
I took the dog out for a walk. It was cold and overcast again. The perfect day for an Addams family frolic. There were a few lovely flowers growing, including this odd ball.
We ended up at the park where a widely spaced triangle of dog owners were letting their dogs play. Lola had an amazing time flirting brazenly with an unneutered fellow named Pickles, whose owner, Michael said they'd be up at the park around 6 p.m everyday, so maybe Lola will have a playdate for the foreseeable future. Now my arthritic feet have me hobbling, but I came home feeling a lot more relaxed than I've been all day. I don't even feel like baking... but that could be the Tullamore on the rocks I just sipped with dinner.
This afternoon, I had my first big crying jag. A couple things happened that set me off, and then the hopelessness of being alone and unable to go to my favorite people or my Anam Cara person so went into the backyard and surveyed this little plot of land I know so well and have loved so long and ending this run-on sentence, I fell out and sobbed. I didn't want my roommate to see and I didn't want to be trapped in my bedroom, alone, crying.
Reminded of the day after my husband died two years ago in February, when my grief literally hit me so hard I fell to my knees and sobbed as if the world had ended.
My next-door neighbor brought me a piece of this amazing Meyer lemon olive oil cake. It was heavenly. I brought her a loaf of homemade sourdough last week. We trade the delights we are manically creating. That cake though. If you're a baker with eggs to spare, check it out.
Working from home is both a distraction and distracting. It's hard to focus, although I've set my mind to it. After all, I did this for two months with a broken foot when I couldn't even go out without a lot of foofaraw and physical agony, so this should be a veritable walk in the park in comparison. Not so. Maybe it's the lack of potent drugs, maybe it's because the whole world seems like it's rife with fear, and we are governed by a man who wants to perpetuate our fear while also brazenly determine to save his own wealth.
I need Edward R. Murrow to reappear with one of his potent journalistic pieces. On Fear, I think, has some relevance here.
And speaking of, there's still more shit hitting the fan out in the world. Here's today's wrap up.
People are getting understandably very pissed off at how the wealthy seem to be getting Covid tested even when asymptomatic when the rest of us can't. Add to that that the Congressional swimming pool and gym was still open for their use at least a few days ago, corroborated by an article about Rand Paul who was swimming there last Sunday. Not sure if that's changed.
At the end of this horrendous cataclysmic pandemic we are all facing to some degree or another, we have something to think about: The rich are doing very well. They are getting tested. They are getting healthcare. They -- the businesses -- will get bailed out. Trump will save face in what is the most disastrous event to occur under an American President ever by bailing out business. But we all knew we would do that.
What about the cruise lines? Why is Trump even talking about bailing out cruise lines that operate under International companies and are not even connected to the United States? Princess Cruise lines is incorporated in the Bahamas, though they keep a corporate office in California.
It turns out that the Coronavirus actually stayed alive in the cabins of the Princess Cruise ship that docked in Oakland for 17 days. That's no fault of the cruise lines perhaps, but jeez.
Eat the Rich, damn it, I think they might make mighty fine dining. Recipes in the link to save for later.
People in Assisi are singing from their balconies, finding community and solidarity balcony to balcony. Opera singers are singing arias from their balconies to those lucky enough to be able to hear them.
China's horrific pollution has subsided to almost pristine, and now it looks like it might stay that way for a while because it appears they are about to be hit with a 2nd wave of this thing.
A few Italian local politicians have gotten uttlery fed up and pissed off because they want their citizens to abide by the stay at home mandate. These guys are threatening flamethrowers for fuck's sake, while here in California people are going in hoards to our local parks and popular oceanside destinations. Point Reyes is closed as are many accessways and beaches to prevent people from gathering there too close to
651 more Italians died in yesterday. I think I mentioned yesterday that 400 had died in that 24 hour period. The numbers I've been keeping in my head are becoming blurred. 800 died there, 600, 400.. whatever the actual number is and you're seeing the same data I am: It is too many dead people.
Today Trump, who a local journalist is calling Frump which is a contraction of Fuck Trump, referred to his 15-day Social Distancing plan as if it really is a finite thing he can put a date on. He said, "This was a medical problem, we're not going to let it turn it into a long-term financial problem." I'll just set that there because it doesn't require interpretation or comment.
And here's a little tidbit a neighbor told from across the street: A company in Colorado has millions of masks, and a neighbor who is the Comptroller for a local jurisdiction declined their offer to buy half a million of them for $6.00 each. Now FEMA is going to go in and take the entire supply at a fraction of the company's price. I hope FEMA doesn't pay their invoice.
Please, if we're going to get to the Soylent Green era of human existence, let's eat the rich first.
Good night and good luck.
Heather/Hanai'ali'i
No comments:
Post a Comment