Studly Doright and his co-worker, Scout, look over the day’s agenda. He says she’s taking direction fairly well, and seldom questions his judgement. She also works for room, board, and meals, so that’s a plus. Her bonus pay consists of treats on demand and an occasional scratch behind the ear.
I applied for the job, but lost out due to ergonomic and spatial constraints: I cannot arrange myself on the desk like Scout can.
Peace, and stay well, people.
Today, I wrote 1,853 words in my novel. That’s a really good day for me. I’m still well shy of 60,000 words, but I am going to get it done. Yay!
The biggest accomplishment of the day, though, was that one of my characters said something that made me cry. I mean big tears rolled out of my eyes then down my cheeks and I had to stop and collect myself before continuing with the tale.
I cry fairly easily. It’s not uncommon for me to sob while reading a novel, but until today, I’d been fairly well prepared for anything my own characters might say. It’s not the first time a character has surprised me, but it is the first time the surprise has resulted in tears.
Hoping for more tears tomorrow. Wish me luck!
On Facebook a couple of days ago I asked friends what books they loved, but would NOT recommend people read during a pandemic. I started the conversation off with a couple of my personal favorites.
First on my list is The Stand by Stephen King. Every now and then I reread King’s tale of a biological weapon unleashed on an unsuspecting and unprepared world. The weapon, in the form of an awful disease nicknamed “Captain Trips” wipes out all but about 4% of the population worldwide.
Of course, being vintage Stephen King, supernatural forces also come into play. As if a global pandemic wasn’t enough. Every time I’ve read the book I’ve ended up with either an upper respiratory virus or a digestive illness, and become fairly certain that I’ve contracted Captain Trips. I definitely will NOT read it in the near future.
Another book I enjoyed and will at some point reread once we’re past the current crisis is Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel. Her novel follows several individuals who have survived a rapidly spreading disease and are trying to make their way in a new kind of society. Multiple story lines explore how different characters cope with the initial panic, the decimation of the population, and the aftermath of the pandemic years later. It’s well written, creatively imagined. and thought-provoking. I just can’t read it right now.
There are a few more I could list, but I want your best DON’T READ RIGHT NOW BOOKS. These should be books you really like, but probably would just ramp up anxiety if read right now. And I’m changing my mind even as I write this. Maybe you LIKE to read books that parallel our current situation. I’d like your thoughts, as well. Ready, set, go.
And as always, Peace, people. Stay well.
This article appeared on my Facebook timeline, and I thought it worth sharing. It certainly fits how I’ve been feeling.
https://hbr.org/2020/03/that-discomfort-youre-feeling-is-grief
Peace and love, people.
On this Tuesday in quarantine I’ve discovered the long lost tv remote control that Studly Doright claimed he’d looked high and low for. It was in plain sight on the table next to his recliner. “Huh! What do you know?” he said.
In addition, I located a set of headphones that he swore he’d already searched for. These weren’t on top of the end table, but inside it. Again, he said, “Huh! What do you know?”
I’ve had my favorite Irish breakfast tea with a splash of almond milk and a bit of honey. Now, until a few weeks ago I’d have laughed at the idea of any kind of milk in my hot tea, but it’s quite good and for the rest of the morning I’ve spoken exclusively in an Irish accent. I’m better at Scottish accents, but as far as I can tell there’s no Scottish breakfast tea in the house. Maybe I should look on the table beside Studly’s chair.
I’ve worked on the novel a bit. I wrote a thousand words yesterday, but only 500 this morning. I’m having trouble getting my characters to shut up and move along. And I know I need less talk and more ambiance to flesh out the book.
For lunch I ordered takeout from Sweet Pea in Tallahassee. I worry about my favorite vegan place during this time. I tip extra every time I buy a meal there, but I know their business is probably slow right now. Be sure and support your local mom and pop businesses if you can.
My laundry is as caught up as it’s ever been. I do at least one load of towels every day on the “sanitize” settings, and that takes a considerable amount of time.
I tried to take a nap, but my brain won’t stop trying to solve the problem I’m having with the novel, so I picked up my phone and began writing this post. I wonder if the solution to my characters’ issues could be found on the table next to Studly’s chair? It’s worth taking a look, I guess.
Peace, people.
Today, Studly Doright went into his office in Tallahassee, gathered up all of his essentials and returned home to Doright Manor from where he will office as long as necessary. The cat and I have mixed feelings about this.
On the one hand we’re relieved that he won’t be interacting with potential carriers of COVID-19, and that he’ll be around to share his sense of humor and his “don’t worry, be happy” mentality.
On the other hand, Scout and I are wondering how we’ll stay out of his hair during the work day and how we’ll sneak in our snuggly naps. We’re just going to have to learn to sleep with our eyes open, I suppose.
Peace, people!
Alone, together
We play at isolation
Without a game plan
The ground rules have changed
Practice social distancing
For the greater good
In this brave new world,
Every minute a bell tolls
We listen alone
A Facebook friend said she needed sheltering-in- place haikus. I was happy to oblige.
Here we are, staying in place, trying our best to keep the corona virus from finding us. In my sci-fi addled brain, COVID-19 is a monster lurking in the internal organs of some stranger’s infected body, awaiting an opening, perhaps a sneeze or a cough, to propel him into the next host.
And that host could be me, or worse, someone I love.
Yes, I know that in most cases of the virus the symptoms are mild—barely noticeable in some instances, but those that are bad, are scary.
BUT! Nature doesn’t give a flip. These past few days have been gorgeous here in Florida. Sunshine and temperatures in the 80’s. And in some parts of the country, snow is falling like crazy. The monster keeps on creeping, but nature doesn’t care, and that comforts me.
I hope all of you are safe and healthy and able to appreciate whatever nature is sharing with you today.
Peace, people.
Right off the bat this morning, even before I’d gotten out of bed, Studly Doright said, “I think you need to take my temperature.”
Alrighty then. Nothing like that kind of request in the middle of a global pandemic to get one’s heart racing and one’s feet moving. I immediately went to our thermometer drawer (which is also our band-aids and q-tips drawer) and fished out both of our thermometers, knowing that neither had been used in ages and were likely in need of batteries and also knowing I didn’t have any batteries on hand.
I sanitized the one that was most likely to be working, and stuck it under Studly’s tongue. His temperature registered at 97.4. I knew that wasn’t right—he’s always a predictable 98.6. Tried again just to make sure and got the low reading again. The other thermometer wouldn’t even turn on.
Now, using the Mommy Method of temperature taking, aka kissing Studly’s forehead, I was certain he wasn’t running an elevated temperature, but he was adamant that I locate a thermometer. After going to seven stores in three different communities I found just one thermometer, a fancy one that works with an iPhone app. I bought it, but can’t find the lightning charger that came with my iPhone, and the thermometer requires that for set up purposes. #%*€£#%.
I also found a battery at one of the stores, though, they were in short supply, as well. After fumfering around with the fancy thermometer I gave up and installed the battery in our old, cheap, run-of-the-mill thermometer. Voila! Why didn’t I just do that first?
Inserted the thermometer into Studly’s mouth, and in less than a minute it beeped. He does not have a fever. The Mommy Method was accurate, after all. He also has none of the other symptoms of COVID-19, but his stomach is upset. He stayed home from work today—something he NEVER does, and is snoring loudly on the couch—something he does frequently.
Here’s hoping all of your thermometers are in working order and that if you need to find your lightning charger it’s close at hand. Mine sure wasn’t.
. Peace, people.
My mother told me repeatedly when I was small, and again when I was a teenager, and yet again when I was grown that I was much too restless for my own good. “You don’t have to be going somewhere, doing something, all the time!” She’d say, or something similar.
To Mom, my need to be doing something or going somewhere, was probably my biggest character flaw—along with my disinterest in keeping a clean room and having a smart mouth. The triumvirate of failings. I suspect that right now she’s looking down on me and laughing her ass off. I don’t do well when told I can’t just get up and go where I please.
Now, I don’t think I’m particularly hyperactive. I can sit for hours reading a good book, or watching a movie, but if I’m unable to leave if I want to, I start feeling trapped and go a bit bonkers. I’m sure my two children are thankful that they are grown and don’t have to share space with me during this time.
My heart hurts, though, when I read of the people in Italy who are unable to attend the funerals of loved ones. People are being buried with only a member of the clergy and perhaps a funeral home employee in attendance, as their surviving family members are prohibited from leaving their own homes. If those grieving families can stay put, then I can.
Thank goodness for FaceTime, books and movies, social media, my renewed interest in finishing my novel, and for plenty of sunshine here in Florida. Maybe I’ll emerge from this experience with a new outlook on being still. Mom just fell off her cloud laughing. Oh, and when she stopped laughing she’d tell me to go clean my room and “don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady.”
How are you staying sane?
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz 