Nowadays any time either Studly or I have to leave the safety of Doright Manor, venturing out to buy necessities, we come home eager to display our respective discoveries.
“Look!” I said this morning while proudly displaying a six-pack of two-ply toilet tissue as if it were a first place trophy. “Last one on the shelves!”
Yesterday he came home beaming, having found two small bottles of hand sanitizer at the pharmacy. “I brought you something,” he said, holding out one petite bottle, watching for my reaction.
“Oh darling,” I said, “it’s just what I’ve always wanted!”
We rejoiced and knew that like any good modern couple we have what it takes to survive in this brave new world.
Enforced seclusion has certainly increased our hours of television viewing here at Doright Manor. In just three days we watched the documentary, “Tiger King.” Crazy show.
Joe Exotic, aka The Tiger King, made for an interesting few days of viewing. The flamboyant openly gay Oklahoman made his career in breeding and exhibiting big cats. His business caught the attention of animal rights groups and the situation spiraled into chaos.
Studly Doright and I should’ve taken a break from dramatic tv for a few days after the final episode of “Tiger King,” I suppose, but we dove right into “Ozark”—a series revolving around a man (played by Jason Bateman) who pretty much has sold his soul to a the head of a drug cartel and now is scrambling to keep his family safe.
So last night my dreams were filled with drug smuggling tigers running from the authorities who were themselves dressed as cowboys, wearing chaps, Stetsons, and little else. Could someone please suggest a lighthearted series? My psyche needs a break.
How are you? How are you coping right now? At my house, it’s just Studly Doright, Scout (our elderly cat), and me. Currently we have toilet paper and a plan in place in case that runs out. You really don’t want to know the details of that plan.
We have food enough for at least two weeks, more if we dig into our stash of things we aren’t crazy about eating, but will if we have to. I’m not sure how we manage to buy items that we think we’ll eat, but never do. Some of it is left over from the last time the grandkids visited, but most of the unwanted foods were purchased with good intentions.
Studly is working from home with lots of help from Scout, who now makes sure he’s up and ready to head to the office around 6 a.m. Her favorite thing is helping him with conference calls. She’s probably saved the company a fortune simply by adding her occasional meow to the conversations.
I’m sort of a loner anyway, so except for the fact that now 99% of my time is spent at home all day every day, nothing much has changed. Before the pandemic, I’d go on solo expeditions looking for things to use as blog fodder.
I worry about our kids and grandkids, my brothers and their families and Studly’s mom and his siblings. Worry isn’t productive, though, so I pray for them all every day, often more than once. I hope someone out there is praying for me.
Oh, and I think about all of the bloggers I follow. If I don’t see a post from the regulars fairly often I begin to fear the worst. Please post something, even if it’s just a meme or a photo or a reassuring sentence. Let me know you’re okay. Same with those who follow me. You’re important to me.
Will you think less of me if I tell you how much I love these stupid movies? I invited Studly Doright to watch them with me last night and we binged all three. He didn’t resist too vehemently.
Why, oh why do I love these movies? Is it the music? The cringe-worthy humor? The contrived story lines? Yes, yes, and yes.
Anyone else have a movie, or a series of movies, that you love in spite of your better judgement? Share if you do.
Generally, Studly Doright and I are on the same page when it comes to movies. We do have our particular viewing niches, though. He tends toward movies that are big on sophomoric humor, while I enjoy science fiction more than he does. We can usually compromise, and often do the quid pro quo thing where we alternate movie choices. “I’ll watch Dumb and Dumber with you tonight if we can watch Star Wars, A New Hope, tomorrow.”
Occasionally there’ll be a movie he really wants to see that no amount of quid pro quoing will satisfy. For example, I do not like war movies. They make me furious and anxious. Okay, one could argue that many sci-fi films are nothing more than futuristic war movies, but by their very nature they are elevated above the nitty gritty of say, Saving Private Ryan, a film that haunted me for years.
Last night, though, we decided to watch 1917. I’d heard so many great things about the making of the film, and didn’t veto Studly’s choice as I normally would any other war movie.
Did it make me angry? Yes. War is an abomination. I hate the glorification of war that is part of many films. But there was none of that here. My anger wasn’t at the movie itself, but at war in general.
Did it make me anxious? Incredibly so. I almost could not breathe in certain scenes. But, I did like this film, I actually liked it more than Studly did.
The cinematography is incredible. I know nothing of movie making, but apparently the people in charge on 1917 did.
From Wikipedia: “Filming took place from April to June 2019 in the UK, with cinematographer Roger Deakins and editor Lee Smith using long takes to have the entire film appear as two continuous shots.”
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.
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.
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.
Scout, the cat
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.
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.
It’s 5:30 on a Saturday morning. Scout, the alarm clock cat, decided it was time for Studly Doright to get up and tend to her needs before heading to the golf course. I’m still in bed reveling in memories of a night of extraordinary (for me) sleep.
A few minutes ago I realized that the post at the foot of my bed resembles one of the Moai statues on Easter Island. I’ve captioned the photos, below, so no one confuses my bedpost with a moai.
Bedpost Moai
Saved myself a few bucks and hours of travel, now didn’t I?
(Seriously, I’d still like to see the real moai in person)
Praying for Eyebrowz 